Saving Grace II: The Power Within
by girlattherockshow2
Summary: Set six months after the events in Saving Grace, Loki, Grace, and Amy celebrate their new family on Asgard. And then to their surprise, there's a second cause for celebration. But Thanos promised Loki that his failure to obtain the Tesseract would mean a pain worse than death... and Loki must turn to the Avengers for help when what he loves most is threatened.
1. Ethereal

**A/N: **I cannot believe it's been five years since Saving Grace was first published. I promised a sequel back then, and then had to deal with a whole mess of personal and health-related things - but now that Endgame is upon us, I can't help but be inspired. I'm so excited to bring back Grace, Loki, and Amy - and I'm excited to develop a new story for all of you. I'm hoping I'll be able to update this fairly regularly, but until the bar exam in July, this may be the only chapter that gets published. I hope you guys enjoy this, and of course, for those who haven't read Saving Grace, I highly recommend you do so, or this fic won't make sense.

**Song: "**From The Ground Up" by Dan + Shay

* * *

Grace didn't know how many times she had packed, unpacked, and re-packed the two suitcases in front of her, but she did know that doing it again would only make her more nervous. She had only been on this trip once, six months ago, and that had been, well, unexpected. Having two weeks' notice, she thought she would be prepared by the time Loki arrived to pick them up, but somehow, there didn't seem to be any good way to pack. It's not like there was a Zagat's Guide to Asgard, and Loki had been away all this time, so she couldn't very well ask him. Finally, she had settled on a suitcase of clothing each for her and their two-year-old daughter, Amy, along with a smaller bag of the little girl's toys and books. While she was fretting over whether she'd accounted for all types of weather (who knew what the climate in outer space was like?), Amy played with a doll Loki had given her. The doll, actually, looked precisely like her, but almost appeared to have an ethereal glow around her, like she had spent some time playing in the atmosphere herself. She checked her watch. Loki should have been there already. It wasn't really anything to worry about—traveling from space took time, after all—but she was antsy. It had only been two weeks, but this was the longest they'd been without seeing each other in months. She missed him, which surprised her. Two years ago, she never thought she would have anyone to miss.

When she first met Loki, he had given her a name that was not his, a fictional story, to hide who and what he truly was—the madman who had tried to conquer Earth but was only stopped because a group of superheroes had intervened. In the chaos of that battle, a man had broken into Grace's apartment and raped her. That was, in fact, how she came to be a mother. As if that wasn't crazy enough (superheroes? Really?) through a series of very odd coincidences, Loki ended up living with Grace, under that assumed identity. Everything changed then; he had helped her feel alive again, softened her heart, loved her child. And when the trial came, when she was forced to testify against the man who tore her apart, Loki was the one to bandage the wounds. In return, he had changed over that year, from a bitter, angry, selfish soul to a man so full of empathy and warmth that she trusted him with the most precious thing in the world to her.

And then, it almost fell apart. She eventually discovered who he was and was ready to cut him out of her life entirely—a decision that he later acknowledged would have been completely justified. But after some convincing by several people, including a few that didn't particularly like him, she had realized that even gods aren't perfect. She had forgiven him in spite of herself, with the promise of a new beginning on a balcony in Asgard as he held the daughter that had gone from "hers" to "theirs" in his arms. So it was that memory she held in her mind's eye as she answered a knock on her door, wondering why he wouldn't simply come into the home they shared. Amy dropped the doll as soon as Grace opened the door. Expecting to see tall, dark, and lanky, they were surprised to be greeted by strong, blond, and muscley.

"Thor!" Grace exclaimed. "What in the world—?"

Before he could answer, Amy pulled herself to her feet and ran toward him. It seemed, despite having only seen him once, she remembered that he was, in effect, her uncle. She grabbed onto one of his enormous legs as he gave them both a devilish smile.

"Lady Grace." He kissed her hand as he always did, even though she had told him a hundred times that his formality was unnecessary. Then, he reached down and picked up Amy as though she weighed as little as the wind. "And to you, young Amy." Amy looked delighted.

She stepped aside to allow him in. "What are you doing here?"

He set his umbrella—a magical disguise for Mjolnir—down on the bench near the doorway and Amy next to it. "I apologize for the change in plans, Lady"—he stopped as she shot him a look—"uh, Grace. But Loki had business to attend to, urgently. He asked me to apologize, and to assure you that he will be waiting for you on your arrival."

She attempted to hide it, but Thor could sense her disappointment. He gave her an encouraging smile. "For what it is worth, I have never seen my brother as impatient as he has been these last weeks." Somehow, he always knew the right things to say.

She returned the smile. "I'm glad I'm not the only one," she said, grabbing her purse. "I imagined he was too busy with the tournaments to think much about us."

"Hardly," Thor replied. "Loki's duties in that regard were purely ceremonial, while Father and I were occupied on Muspelheim. The tournaments are indeed a great tradition, but not nearly all-consuming."

Loki had been called home to assist with the Warrior Tournaments, an annual tradition in Asgard, during which the greatest fighters in the realm compete for a handsome reward—a golden sword made by the dwarves of Svartenheim, and a modest sum of silver. She knew he hated the tournaments, and only agreed to preside over them because Odin and Thor could not. After his exile had ended, he was determined to show his gratitude, including performing ceremonial duties like this, no matter how boring or annoying he found them.

She suspected there was another reason, however. He had come so close to losing his families, both the one that adopted him and the one he'd built with Grace, that he wanted to make up for all the ways in which he had taken them for granted.

"Well, that's good to know." She helped Amy into her jacket. "God knows I've gotten so used to being a two-parent household that I need him to have the energy to handle this one for a while. I need a nap!"

Thor laughed and picked up the suitcases and his umbrella. "I'm quite certain your particular god does know."

Grace gave a last look around the apartment, making sure the coffee maker was off, the thermostat down, the candles blown out. Once she was satisfied that the apartment wouldn't explode while they were gone, she grabbed Amy's bag of toys and slung it over her shoulder.

"Okay," she said to Amy, taking her hand, "ready to go see Daddy?"

* * *

The trip was as bumpy as Grace remembered it, although Amy seemed to enjoy herself as much as last time. Grace loved traveling, but she decidedly preferred to do it by plane. At least they stuck the landing this time; she managed to enter the observatory upright. Heimdall, the gatekeeper of Asgard, smiled warmly at them, his golden eyes alarmingly bright against his dark skin. "Welcome back to Asgard, Lady Grace," he said.

She didn't really think there was a chance of stopping him calling her that, even if she asked politely, so she returned his smile and nodded. "Glad to be back." She then took Amy up in her arms so that they could cross the Bifrost to the palace without risking her falling over the unguarded edge. "How are you, Heimdall?"

He seemed slightly taken aback by the question. Grace supposed it was rarely asked of him. "I am well. I pray you enjoy your visit here."

"Shall we make our way to the palace?" Thor asked, having somehow changed from his "earth clothes" to his Asgardian garb, including Mjolnir in place of the umbrella. He picked the suitcases back up with ease, and carried them on his broad shoulders, Mjolnir secured on his belt somehow.

"Sounds good. I'm exhausted, and it is _way_ past this one's bedtime. We have about half an hour until a meltdown."

As they walked, Thor told her of the arrangements that had been made for her time here. She and Amy would share a chamber, but that there was a separate nursery in the chamber so she could sleep alone. She would have a servant for any need she might have, although he knew perfectly well that she would not use a servant if she could avoid it. There would be an elaborate feast the following evening in honor of her visit. Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed an odd look on her face for just a moment.

"Grace, is something troubling you?"

"No. No, why do you ask?"

"You seem displeased."

She scolded herself. She usually had better control of her face. "Oh, Thor, I'm sorry. It's just all a little strange for me. The last time there was a feast in my honor, it was my bat mitzvah."

His brow furrowed. "I'm not familiar with that feast."

"Nevermind. I'm just tired. We both are." She gestured to Amy, who had fallen asleep on Grace's shoulder.

He smiled. "It won't be long now."

They walked the rest of the way in relative silence, as Grace took in the details she had missed on her mad dash to the palace the last time she had visited. Contrary to popular belief, there were places near New York City where you could see stars, but even the darkest, clearest sky wouldn't give you the starlight that Asgard held. Everywhere around her were twinkling lights of all sizes, set against an inky sky. The bridge itself was surrounded by a vast sea, which ended in a waterfall draining into space near the observatory. She wondered if that was where Loki had fallen into the abyss that had warped his mind but knew better than to ask. Ahead of them, there were dozens of mountains with buildings and columns seemingly built right into them. Although it was completely dark this far out, the sun was still setting on the horizon, giving the city a gauzy haze around it, bouncing the dying light between shining pyramids of gold. And, at the very center of the city, there stood a towering, golden palace that looked very much like an organ you might see in a Catholic church. This, she knew from the book about Norse mythology that Loki had given Amy, was Valhalla.

After what seemed like an entire day's journey, they arrived at the palace. The guards at the grand entrance immediately stepped aside, and no sooner had they walked through the doors did two servants appear, taking the luggage and carrying it away. She was finally, mercifully, able to put Amy down, and immediately the little girl took off down the long, marble hallway, not stopping until she tripped over her own feet.

"She is quite spirited," Thor observed with a smile. "No doubt a trait she gets from her mother."

"Actually, I think the klutziness is me. The self-confidence, well, she gets that from Loki." She chased Amy down—not difficult, as the girl had stopped to admire herself in one of the gold pillars that lined the hallway—and by the time she turned around, Thor had caught up.

"Shall I take you to your chambers, then?"

"Of course," she replied, "but isn't that someone else's job?" She meant a servant, but he took it another way.

"Ordinarily, I would say yes, but my brother appears to have been delayed further. I will be happy to walk with you in his stead."

"Okay." She detected something in Thor's voice that told her he knew exactly why Loki was late, but she elected not to ask. Whatever it was that had kept him, she imagined, there was a reason she was not being told.

They walked through endless hallways and around several corners as they made their way to the living quarters. She hoped she would be able to remember the way back, trying to take note of any kind of "landmark." There was a suit of armor here, a tapestry there, a balcony overlooking a vast garden, but when they arrived at a grand staircase, she knew they were close. Upstairs, she found herself staring down yet another long corridor, but the walls here were dotted with enormous doors instead of lined with gold. It was also dimly lit, as if to suggest a permanent evening.

"Yours is the first on the left," he said. "Your belongings should be there already."

He passed by her, cape billowing behind him without any wind at all, and pushed open the door. She followed him in, again carrying Amy, who was, after the long walk, back asleep. Immediately, she was awestruck. This room was even more beautiful than she remembered Loki's being. The first thing she noticed was a roaring fireplace, and a plush fur rug in front of it. _Just like a movie,_ she thought. There was also a thin, clear grate in front of the flames, one that did not obstruct their ambiance but still provided protection. It was just like Loki to think of their daughter's safety first. Speaking of that, she desperately needed to put Amy down. The sleeping girl's weight was becoming more difficult to bear by the second.

Sensing this, Thor gestured to an open door next to the fireplace. "Through there. There is also a bath chamber if you would like to refresh yourself." Then, he excused himself, leaving her and Amy to retire for the evening.

"Thank you," she whispered, although he was already gone. Passing through the large bathroom on her way to put Amy to bed, she made a mental note to return to see if there was any Asgardian approximation of bath bombs in any of the cupboards that lined the far wall. Upon entering the nursery, she was awestruck. Someone had taken the time to set up a beautiful, oak crib with gauzy, silver drapes hanging around it, suspended from the ceiling. The lights were already dimmed, as if whoever had done this had predicted Amy would be asleep by the time they arrived. The sound of running water, like a waterfall, was coming from somewhere unknown.

When she laid Amy in the crib, Grace pulled her tiny shoes and coat off, but didn't try to undress the girl any further. She wasn't about to wake her up and fight to get a cranky two-year-old into pajamas, especially not by herself. So, instead, she pulled the thick, crimson blanket over the sleeping child, leaned down, and kissed her forehead. Amy barely stirred, exhausted as she was, and Grace whispered, "Goodnight, my little love. I bet you Daddy will be here to wake you up tomorrow." As she closed the door, she completed her thought. "At least, he _better_ be."

Stepping back into the now-empty main chamber, she was finally able to take it all in. The fire was still brightly burning, warming the room just enough to be comfortable. There was a beautiful desk in the far corner of the room, made, it seemed, from the same wood as the crib, with an oversized, padded armchair in front of it. The walls were carved with ancient battle scenes, intricate stories she was sure Loki would be able to tell her, because she remembered that his room had similar carvings. This room didn't have the picturesque view of Asgard that his room had, as it was deep within the palace, but it did have a bed that looked just as comfortable.

Actually, it looked even _more _comfortable than Loki's bed, but probably only because she was more exhausted than she had been at her last visit. Even though she didn't want to fall asleep, she thought there would be no harm just getting off her feet until Loki decided to make an appearance. Her luggage was only a few steps away from the bed, but she was so tired that unpacking anything was out of the question. So, she just kicked off her sneakers, slipped off her socks, and hopped—literally, because the bed was so high off the floor—onto the bed.

She laid down on top of the royal purple duvet, sinking into the feather pillows under her head. The blanket was so soft, sort of like velvet but not as fuzzy, and the mattress was almost made for the lines of her body. But when she looked up at the ceiling, it truly hit her that she was in another world. Directly above the bed was an image of a night sky, just like the one outside, but this wasn't a still image. The stars were actually twinkling, some of them appearing to burst into existence before her eyes. She was mesmerized, and felt peaceful, still, and warm. And just as she thought she was going to drift off under the blanket of this little universe above her head, she heard footsteps, and then a slightly annoyed, familiar voice with a lilting accent.

"I asked them to give you a room with a view, but since I was apparently ignored, I decided to create one for you."

"Loki!" She couldn't get into his arms fast enough, and he laughed as she nearly fell off the bed in the process.

"I have missed you, my love," he said, pressing her against him.

She didn't realize how much she had missed him, truly, until she felt his hands on the small of her back and smelled the sweetness of his skin, like almonds and honey and a hint of icy mint. He wasn't wearing his full Asgardian "battle suit," but he also wasn't wearing what he wore on Earth. It was a hybrid of the two, a black coat with a high collar, and black slacks. Underneath the coat, however, she could see the hint of a forest green button-down shirt she'd bought him when he first came back to live with her. It brought a smile to her face to know that he had taken it with him and worn it in the presence of his family, who, other than Thor, she had still not met.

"I missed you, too," she said.

It occurred to him that his first instinct was not to kiss her, although he wanted to desperately, but to simply hold her, smell her hair, feel her body curved against his. He sometimes tried to pinpoint the moment when he had begun to favor these intimacies over the pleasure of sexual release, but the truth was that it did not much matter. He loved Grace well before he ever bedded her, and that love had only grown in the last year. She pried herself away from his shoulder to look into his eyes.

He took her face in his hands, then, and finally did kiss her, deep and hard and full of lust. He had almost forgotten how soft her lips were. But he heard her sigh, one of sleepiness rather than passion. He pulled back, glancing at the indentation on the pillow. "You must be exhausted. Was your trip uneventful?"

"Relatively," she said, "as trips to outer space go."

"And our child?"

Whenever he referred to Amy as "their" child or "his" daughter, Grace felt her heart pound just a little harder. She was once extremely possessive of her daughter, and never wanted to share the job of "parent" with anyone. But when she watched Loki with Amy—tender, patient, and kind—she couldn't help it; she gave up the piece of herself she held most precious and sacred.

"She's asleep in the nursery. I think she might actually sleep through the night!"

He laughed. "Well, that would be a miracle. Would you mind—"

"She's yours too, Loki," Grace said, a smile on her lips. "You don't have to ask my permission."

He kissed her, gently this time, and headed toward the room where Amy lay sleeping. He opened the door as quietly as he could, trying not to wake his daughter from what he was sure was a deep sleep. The room was just as he had prepared it. The sound of water was as soothing to him as it was to her, bringing back memories of time spent as a child by the river near the edge of the realm, conjuring snakes to throw at Sif. The drapes around the crib shimmered, even though the light was dim. He wondered if Grace had figured out that his "important business" that had required him to stay behind had been completing this nursery. He crept toward the crib, taking every step as lightly as his six-foot-seven frame would allow.

Amy barely stirred. Her curly, red hair fell carelessly around her face, lips barely parting as she snored quietly. He stood gazing at her for a moment, wishing he could freeze time as easily as he could freeze anything else he touched. When, he wondered, had she gotten so big? Surely, she couldn't have grown so much in just two weeks. He thought back to the infant she had been when he met her. She had the smallest hands, even by Midgardian standards, and he reached into the crib to take one in his own. Again, she didn't stir.

"My darling," he whispered, little more than a breath, "have the sweetest dreams." At this, she moved, but only barely, as if to assure him that she fully intended to.

* * *

"Is she still asleep?" Grace asked when Loki returned to the main chamber.

"She is." He removed his coat and draped it over the armchair. "I am surprised that you are not."

At that, she climbed off the bed and met him in the middle of the room, pulling him to her. She kissed him, sweet and slow and full of longing, and put his hands on her hips. "I am tired," she agreed, "but not _that_ tired."

"Good," he said, winding his hands through her hair, knowing what she wanted.

The first time they made love, he had been almost afraid to touch her, worried he would hurt her in some unintended way. Since then, she had opened herself to him, in a million ways, including under his touch. She would grab him in the hallway in their tiny apartment and run her hands down his spine, her way of telling him she needed him. Sometimes, he would take her to the bedroom and make love to her as tenderly as he had that first time. He would take his time, kiss every single inch of her, worship her as if she were a goddess. And without fail, she would come undone for him, arch her back, moan so softly that he almost couldn't hear her when she whispered his name. _His_ name. Not the name created for him when he was deceiving the universe about his true nature, when he had first met her. Nothing ever sounded more beautiful to him than the first time she spoke it.

But sometimes? Sometimes their sex was simply feral, full of desperation and need and lust. He still couldn't look at their kitchen table without becoming aroused. Oddly, it was those moments he knew she loved and trusted him completely. That she allowed him intensity, even roughness, in their lovemaking, given all that she had been through, meant everything to him.

She hesitated. "What if we wake her up?"

He grinned a sly smile and led her to the bed. "Are you worried"—he kissed from her shoulder to her jawline—"that you will not be able to control your moans, darling?"

"You're cute when you're trying to tease me. I'm not saying she'll see us or even understand what we're doing, but…"

"But?"

"But I don't want to be interrupted!" She felt a measure of guilt at this admission, placing her physical desires over her child's needs. But with his mouth moving across her collarbone, the guilt melted away second by second.

"Well"—he straightened himself, to her surprise and disappointment—"I can surely understand that concern. I suppose, then, that we are both lucky that I am a proficient sorcerer."

With a wave of his hand, a gold stream of light shot into the air toward the illusion of night above the bed. Suddenly, the stars fell from the ceiling and melted together to form a sheer, silver barrier between them and the rest of the world.

"This," she replied, "is why I love you."

He took a step back toward her, pushing her back onto the bed. Then, he took her calves in his hands, lifting them to link her ankles around his hips and back. "Are you sure that is the only reason?"

With that, she pulled him forward with her legs so that he came down on top of her. He braced himself with his hands to keep his weight off her, but that didn't stop her from feeling other parts of him pressed against her.

"Oh," she sighed as she drew him into a deep, slow kiss, "I suppose there are probably other reasons…but I might need a reminder."


	2. A Question of Love

**A/N:** Believe it or not, I got chapter two finished THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BAR EXAM. So here you go - please enjoy while I go suffer through three days of exhaustion, anger, tears, and misery. Upshot: you'll get a new chapter soon because I'll need to work out my rage on my characters. ;)

**Song:** "Something About the Way You Look Tonight" by Elton John

* * *

Grace awoke the next morning to a sunrise where the night sky had been. Loki never did anything half-heartedly. What surprised her, however, was that he was not in bed next to her. Usually they got up together to the sound of Amy asking to be brought from her room. Speaking of which, she didn't hear a peep from the nursery, which meant either Loki's sound-blocking spell was stronger than she'd realized, or Amy was also still asleep. Somehow, the former seemed more realistic.

She pulled herself off the bed, taking the sheet with her as a makeshift robe. Upon entering the nursery, she discovered neither scenario was the case—Amy was nowhere to be found, which meant she was already roaming the palace with Loki. This ordinarily wouldn't have bothered her, except that in her current environment, she had no idea where to begin looking for them. In fact, she didn't even really know if she could even remember her way back to where she and Thor had entered the previous evening. She wondered if maybe she could summon that servant Thor had mentioned to ask how to get around Asgard.

As if on cue, she heard a knock from the other room. She returned to the main chamber and cracked the door just slightly, as she was still clutching the sheet precariously to her body. A young woman with dark hair and eyes, wearing a long dress and apron, curtsied.

"Good morning, Lady Grace," she said, her voice soft but slightly nasal. "May I enter? I am Dagmar, your servant for your stay here."

"Um…" Grace blushed, and not because she was all but naked in front of a total stranger. She was deeply uncomfortable with the idea of having a servant; she'd never even had a housekeeper! Her mother would sometimes try to clean the apartment she shared with Loki, and even _that_ made her nervous. But she also suspected that refusing Dagmar would be an insult to Loki's family, or, worse, cause trouble for the servant herself, so she nodded and stepped aside.

"Would you like me to draw you a bath?" Dagmar asked.

Grace had never been so weirded out in her life, but she agreed. She had to give up her sheet so that the bed could be made anyway. Dagmar hurried off to the bathroom and shortly thereafter, Grace heard running water. She followed the sound and found Dagmar pouring oil into the tub, under the faucet. "What's that?"

Dagmar smiled. "For your skin. We are not so different from your world."

Grace returned the smile, curious as to how Dagmar would know about earthly bath products. She wondered if there was some kind of Midgardian history class in schools, like kids in New York learned about ancient Greece. "Thank you."

"You are welcome." Dagmar went to a closet and pulled a bathrobe out, holding it up so that Grace could discreetly shed the sheet and step into the robe. "Is there anything else you require before I attend to the chamber, Lady Grace?"

"One request," Grace replied. "Please call me Grace. No 'lady' required."

Dagmar looked as uncomfortable as Grace had been earlier. "But, I—"

"I know custom says otherwise. Thor has trouble with it too. But really, I prefer to be called just by my name. I'm not royalty, after all."

"But you are as good as."

The way she said it took Grace aback; there was just something strange about the phrasing. Being Loki's partner would by nature make her a member of the upper class. But she felt more akin to Meghan Markle than Queen Elizabeth—someone who happened to be dating a royal, not someone bred to be royalty.

"If you're worried about Loki being angry, don't," she said. "I promise, if I tell him it's what I want, it will be what he wants."

"As you wish," Dagmar replied, as she scooped up the sheet.

"Thank you. For the bath too."

"It is an honor, La—" Dagmar stopped herself just as Thor had. "Grace."

When Grace was sure Dagmar had begun cleaning the main chamber, she slipped off the robe and eased herself into the bath. The water was steaming, but somehow not too hot, and the oil Dagmar had added tingled slightly on her skin. The room was filled with the aroma of vanilla and bergamot, and, as Grace relaxed, she felt overcome by emotion.

"Loki, I don't know where you are, but this is the best morning you've ever given me." She paused. "Well, _almost_ the best." And as she closed her eyes, although she knew she was alone, she could have sworn she heard a devilish laugh and seen a quick flash of green light in the mirror across the room.

* * *

"Daddy! Pony!"

Amy grasped Loki's hand—well, more like two of his fingers—and then pointed toward a large stallion in the stable. It was as black as his hair but had a shock of white running through its mane. He walked with her toward the horse, having to moderate his normally long stride to accommodate her short steps.

"Stallion, my love," he gently prompted. Although Amy was only a little over two years old, he and Grace believed in treating her like a miniature adult.

"Stahyen," Amy repeated, a child's pronunciation but still trying to use the word.

Loki lifted her onto his shoulders and leaned down to allow her to gently pet the horse's head, following his lead. "Would you like to know a secret about this stallion?" Amy nodded emphatically. "This stallion," he said, "was the first one I ever rode."

Amy's eyes grew wide with wonder. "_Yours?_"

"He still is," Loki replied. "A bit too old to ride properly now, but I wouldn't allow my father to"—he paused, considering his words carefully—"to send him to live with all the other old horses."

"Do you still ride stahyons, Daddy?" Now she was trying to impress him, he knew. It was endearing, and he smiled at her effort.

"I don't have a stallion anymore, I'm afraid." He watched his old friend sniff and nudge his daughter's hand, just as the stallion had done with him when he was a boy. "But I'm sure we can find one you can ride when you get just a bit bigger."

Amy gasped the way only a child who has just been told she could have a pony of her own could. "Am I bigger now?"

"Too big," Grace said, coming toward them from the palace grounds, her auburn-tinged hair blowing backwards as she walked. The wind had picked up that afternoon, reminding Loki how bitterly cold it was the night he met her. He hadn't been as susceptible to it as others were, owing to his heritage, but he remembered the pink in Grace's cheeks and the sight of her breath in the air, and it brought a smile to his lips.

"Mama!" Amy held her arms out, asking Grace to take her, and Grace obliged. She knew she wouldn't have much longer to do this, as fast as Amy was growing. "Daddy says I get a stahyon!"

"Oh yeah?" Grace raised an eyebrow. "And did Daddy tell you where the stallion would live?"

"Well," Loki said, his voice betraying his mischief, "being a prince has its benefits. Access to a stable is perhaps the least impressive but possibly the most important."

"Ah, yes. That's probably why I keep you around!"

"It clearly has nothing to do with my dashing good looks or excellent abilities in the—"

"Kitchen!" She gestured toward Amy with a jerk of her head. "You do make great spaghetti."

He drew his hand up the curve of her spine, sending goosebumps across her skin. "Yes, I believe I made a superb _dinner _last night. And you provided the most delicious dessert."

She slapped his arm playfully and put Amy on the ground. "So, what else do you have planned for the day besides making grand promises to our kid?"

"Well, as you know, we are attending the banquet tonight."

The three of them began to walk toward the garden on the south side of the grounds. He knew Grace would love it there; summertime was her favorite time of year, despite its heat, because the trees would flourish and Central Park would be overcome with bright, bold colors and so many fragrant flowers that almost made up for the acrid smell of the humid city streets. She had no trouble making the nearly hour-long journey subway ride to Manhattan even on her days off from work, just to take Amy to see the turtles at Turtle Pond or to the zoo. Anything to be surrounded by nature.

Just then, Amy, who had run slightly ahead of them, called to him as they passed a group of warriors sparring in a courtyard. "Daddy?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Are they mad?"

Loki and Grace exchanged a look. "No," he said. "What makes you think that?"

She pointed to the men who were, by then, locked together by their axes. "They're fighting!" She looked genuinely distressed. Loki realized that, as a human, Amy had never seen sparring, while he had been exposed to it—even participated occasionally—practically since he was brought to Asgard. He had never been particularly good at it, but it was something expected of him as an Asgardian, and, even more so, as a prince.

"No, baby," Grace interjected. "They're just playing! You know, like you do with your friends when you pretend to be lions and tigers."

"Your Uncle Thor and I used to do that," Loki added. Amy's eyes widened for the millionth time that day, as though she didn't believe he and Thor could ever have been young too.

"Yeah, and you know how much Daddy and Uncle Thor love each other." Grace glanced over at him to gauge his reaction. He seemed to be somewhere between amused and embarrassed.

As they reached their destination, Grace stopped short. Before her was the most beautiful, lush, colorful garden she had ever seen. There were flowers she had seen on Earth and flowers she was certain were only of Asgard. A canopy of trees—weeping willows, from the sight of them—lined the edges of the space, providing shade and privacy. There was a stone and gold fountain on the far end, and a tree that appeared to change from magenta to green to blue depending on the wind. She wondered if Loki had enchanted the tree himself or if that kind of thing was simply normal here.

"Loki, this is…"

She couldn't even finish because he took her by the waist and pulled her into him. Amy ran ahead, settling down under the colorful tree, content to play with blades of grass and leaves. Grace looked up at him, his arm as tight around her waist as her heart was in his hand. "This is my own private garden," he explained. "Only those who know its location can see it."

"That reminds me of the Room of Requirement in Harry Potter."

"Where do you think I got it? It's hard to believe that a mortal could have such a brilliant magical idea."

Although he was smiling, Grace could see that it wasn't the usual Cheshire grin he would have after pulling something like this off. Something seemed to be weighing on his mind. "Loki, what's wrong?"

"Are you happy, Grace?"

"Oh, let's see." She looked skyward, as if considering his question. "I'm in another world with the two people I love most, in an unbelievably beautiful garden, and I got to take a long, uninterrupted bath this morning, to say nothing of the fact that I get to meet your family tonight at a banquet in a palace." When he didn't seem to understand her sarcasm, she said, "I think I'm content."

"No," he said, blinking hard. He looked toward the tree where Amy was still contentedly entertaining herself. "What I meant was, are you happy with me? With our life?"

For the first time since he had revealed his true self to her, his voice was full of hesitation. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought it was fear. She gently put her hand on his face and turned his head toward her again. "Loki, I have never been happier." Then, she hesitated. "Okay, that's not true. The only day I've been happier was February 15th, 2013."

"Her birthday. Of course," he replied, glancing at Amy again. "But…"

"But what?"

"I caused you a great deal of pain, Grace, even if you are content now."

She smiled up at him, her hair falling over one eye, which he brushed back. "February 15th caused me a great deal of pain, too," she said. "But I wouldn't trade the joy I got from that pain for—"

"For all the nine realms?"

She kissed him. "For all the nine realms."

* * *

"Damnit!"

Grace sat at the vanity in the bathroom, staring at her reflection. What little makeup she wore was doing absolutely nothing for her that night. She had a little superstition that you could tell how an evening was going to go based on how well your hair and makeup worked. Of course, one of the benefits of her rarely wearing makeup or doing her hair was that in turn, she rarely had to formulate a prediction of the upcoming day.

Tonight, however, she was not only meeting Loki's parents, but she was doing so at a formal banquet in front of half of Asgard. On top of that, Loki had a gown delivered to the chamber that was more beautiful than anything she had ever worn. It was made from gold fabric that seemed to be a combination of satin and jersey, with a sheer, mesh overlay that gave the gown the appearance of starlight. It wasn't strapless, thank God—she didn't have enough there to fill out anything strapless, even after pregnancy. Instead, the straps were wide enough to cover her shoulders with a slight wing over them, and the sweetheart neckline gave her just a bit of sex appeal. It fit her as if it had been made for her, and she was frustrated that her face wasn't holding up its end of the bargain, with her hair not faring much better.

Dagmar appeared from behind her, stepping into view of the mirror. "What troubles you, Lady Grace?"

Grace sighed. "No one here is ever _not _going to call me that, are they?"

Dagmar winced at the rebuke. "I apologize."

"Oh," Grace said, more gently this time, "I'm sorry. It isn't you. I just can't seem to make myself look human."

"I believe you _are_ human."

Grace laughed. "That's true. I'll rephrase. I would like to look like an _attractive _human."

Dagmar set down her stack of towels and stood behind Grace. "Well, I believe Prince Loki would argue that you are already quite beautiful, and he would not be wrong."

"I appreciate that," Grace said as she fiddled with her hair.

"May I?" Dagmar asked. Grace nodded, and the maid picked up a comb and some pins. She gathered sections of Grace's hair and wove it into a pattern of curls and twists that finally began to look intentional.

"You are _really _good at this, Dagmar. Have you always liked doing hair?"

"Yes. I have two sisters. I used to practice on them."

"I wish I had a sister. My parents tried after me, but they just…couldn't."

"You have a lovely daughter, at least."

"Yes, I do, but I'm sure she'll also be an only child."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"Well," Grace sighed, "I expect it would be quite difficult to have a child with someone who isn't human."

"I suppose so. However, I've never heard of anyone trying to, so I can't be sure of that."

Before long, Grace's hair had been swept into a high ponytail with curls wrapped around it to form a polished but effortless-looking style. She marveled at how intricate it was without looking overdone. "Dagmar," she said, "you really need to make this into a career."

Dagmar shook her head and lowered her dark eyes. Suddenly, she looked as uncomfortable as Grace felt every time someone called her lady. "Thank you, but I am just a servant. But I am glad to have been helpful."

"Thank _you_. You have saved this evening from ruin, at least so far."

"It is my pleasure." Dagmar gave a small curtsy and left the chamber.

"Okay," Grace said to no one but herself, "I suppose looking half-human is better than not human at all."

* * *

The knock on the door startled her, although it shouldn't have, given that Grace knew it was Loki. She wasn't entirely sure why he insisted on knocking before he entered her room. He obviously didn't do that at home in the apartment they shared. She wondered if perhaps he reverted to some of his formal manners and upbringing when he was at home for an extended period of time, kind of like how some people reverted to accents they had growing up when they visit home. She walked carefully to the door and flung it open. There he stood, adorned in his formal armor, sans horned helmet. She expected him to greet her as he usually did, with a kiss and a gentle squeeze to her waist—sometimes, when Amy wasn't nearby, it would be a squeeze to her rear instead—but this time, he hesitated. He seemed almost in a trance, like he was struggling for words.

"You look…ethereal," he said.

She laughed. "That seems appropriate, given our location."

He loved her laugh. It was honest and playful. He often thought there was no sound more beautiful. "Is Amy asleep?"

"Yes. Dagmar is with her. By the way, she's—"

"Grace, I'm so sorry, but we must go. The Allfather detests tardiness. I'm afraid I learned that early in my childhood." He extended his arm to her.

"Okay." She took his arm and made a mental note to speak to him later about Dagmar's talent.

They walked the palace in relatively silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Grace was nervous; she had heard a dozen stories about Odin, not all of them flattering. She wondered what Odin thought of his son, the prince, involved with a human. Would he be happy with the union? Would he want to meet Amy?

"Where did you go just now?" he asked. His soft voice somehow never managed to startle her, whether she was expecting it or not. Perhaps, she wondered, that was a sign of how comfortable she felt with him. Or maybe it was simply that his tone was always so gentle.

"I was just…thinking about Amy. Do you think she's going to be okay? What if she wakes up?"

"If she should awaken, I have instructed the servant girl—"

"Dagmar," Grace corrected. "Her name is Dagmar."

"Right," he said, a puzzled look on his face. "I have instructed her to inform us at once. But I do not think that is truly what you were thinking of."

She smiled. "Sometimes I wonder if that magic of yours doesn't include mind reading."

"Would that it did," he replied. "It might have saved me some trouble attempting to buy you a birthday gift last year."

Then, he stopped walking and turned toward her. On the wall opposite her, was a huge mirror, like something you would see in a period room at the Met. She momentarily admired the broadness of his shoulders, draped in green velvet and leather. Then, she came back to Earth. Well, almost.

"It's nothing, really," she said.

"Grace?"

She could sense his disbelief. "I—just—do you think they'll like me?"

"They would not have invited you to stay in the palace otherwise."

"They did that for your benefit. I don't just mean will they be polite to me. I mean, will they like _me_? Will they approve of us?"

He gave her his most mischievous smile, the one he knew could always reach her, melt her, comfort her. "As I told you, I have come to believe, finally, that my family have always wanted what is best for me. If they did not believe you to be what is best for me, they would not have permitted me to be part of your life when I met you. Thor alone threatened to stop me if I had hurt you." When she did not reply, he said, "I promise you, this evening will be everything we both want it to be."

"You seem to be telling yourself that as much as you're telling me."

He shook his head. "The only thing I need to tell myself is that I am the most fortunate man in all of Yggdrasil, because you are on my arm this evening." With that, he again extended his arm to her, and she again took it, trusting him to lead the way.

* * *

"Lords and ladies of Asgard, I pray thee rise and give welcome to Prince Loki, Son of Odin, and Lady Grace Lawson." She heard the announcement of their arrival before she realized they had been standing just outside the banquet hall.

"Ready?" Loki whispered.

"Just don't leave me." Suddenly, the huge, thick, walnut doors opened to a room that must have been the grandest in all Asgard. It was a combination of futuristic and medieval; the bright, gleaming gold and silver toned walls were offset by long, heavy tables made from the same wood as the doors. Great, iron chandeliers hung over each of the tables, adorned with soft hued lights—not candles, though they gave the same flickering glow. It was difficult to take in everything at once, not least of all because of the thundering applause as they entered.

"Does this happen at every family dinner?" she asked, trying not to gawk.

"Only when I've done something very, very good," he replied.

As they proceeded down the aisle between the tables, she realized they were headed directly toward three individuals standing in front of a more elaborately decorated table with five equally ornate, padded chairs around it. She immediately recognized Thor, wearing his armor, which was similar to Loki's but clearly more built for battle. Next to him was a statuesque woman with a warm smile, bright blue eyes, and wavy strawberry-blonde hair cascading down her back. And finally, a stocky but powerful looking man, with an impressive white beard and a gold eye patch over his right eye that matched the armor he wore. He looked, to Grace, like a battle-ravaged Santa Claus. The thought made her smile, which was probably good, since otherwise she likely would have already passed out from sheer terror. She'd only ever met the parents of one boyfriend, and that had been a chance meeting at temple during a book sale in high school. That was a far cry from meeting the king and queen of an entirely different world at a banquet.

Loki bowed. "Mother, Father, I am pleased to introduce you to my darling Grace. Grace, these are my parents, Queen Frigga and Odin Allfather."

He pulled her forward gently, almost causing her to trip on her dress. She managed an approximation of the curtsy she'd seen Dagmar give. While she was comforted by a small nod from Thor and the enduring smile from Frigga, she couldn't get a read on Odin. She supposed that was an asset in ruling, to be able to hide one's emotions, but as far as social interactions were concerned, it was maddening.

"I am very happy to finally meet you," she said, more to Frigga than to Odin, whose gaze and face remained impassive. However, he did reply to her.

"And we, you."

With only those words, Grace felt immediately calmer. At least he was speaking to her. Odin motioned to the table, giving unspoken permission for the group to be seated. Loki directed her to a chair between himself and Thor, across from the King and Queen. She appreciated this; between the two enormous princes, she could disappear from the public eye.

The rest of the room buzzed with activity and conversation—likely, she thought, about her. It was probably unusual for a human to be in the palace, let alone at a table with the royal family. Several servants began to bring out generous portions of food—fresh fruits, vegetables, bread, and cheese, as well as platters of turkey, chicken, and sausages. The sheer amount was enough to feed Manhattan for a year. But having lived with Loki for as long as she had, she knew that at least Frost Giants had voracious appetites. She suspected Asgardians were no different.

As they filled their plates, Frigga finally spoke. "Grace, have you enjoyed your stay thus far?"

"Oh, yes, very much," Grace replied, waiting for either the Queen or King to take a bite of food before doing so herself. _And they said all those hours watching the royal wedding coverage were wasted, _she thought.

"And your daughter? Has she found Asgard to her liking?"

"As far as I can tell, yes. She was quite taken with the horses."

At this, a small smile played over Odin's lips, almost imperceptible if one hadn't been looking for it. "Seems she is taking after my younger son."

"Loki never mentioned he rode horses before today, actually."

"Ah, well, it was so long ago that he last rode that perhaps he has forgotten how."

"Well, that seems unlikely," she replied. At once, all three others at the table stopped and looked up, eyes darting between Odin and Grace. Loki held his breath; she was walking a dangerous line by contradicting the Allfather. Before he could intercede, however, she said, "I mean, it's not like there are many opportunities to ride horses in our city, but I am sure that if Loki learned to ride from you, he would never forget how—even just to show off!"

Odin gave her an appraising look, studying her for a moment, and then let out a great laugh. "My son," he said to Loki, "for all your ability to deceive, I fear you have been found out!"

The tension at the table immediately broke, and they continued to enjoy their meal. Thor told stories about the brothers' childhood, and Loki noticed that, for once, they weren't all embarrassing to him. Thor even managed to compliment his brother's magical skills with a story about how Loki had transformed himself into a snake and was so convincing that Thor picked him up, only to change immediately back and scare the daylights out of Thor. He had screamed so loudly that the Warriors Three thought he was a maiden in distress.

Frigga asked Grace about her parents and Amy. It was her nature, despite being a skilled swordswoman and warrior, to care about family. "Do your parents enjoy having a grandchild?"

"Very much. I hope that you can meet Amy sometime during our stay. If you'd like to, I mean."

"I would," Frigga replied. "I think it is a universal desire of parents to have grandchildren."

"My brother and I have been great disappointments in that regard," Loki said.

"Until now, that is," Thor added with a wink in Grace's direction.

Grace turned toward Odin. "Your Highness, tell me, did your parents enjoy being grandparents to your sons?"

With a hint of sadness in his one good eye, Odin shook his head. "My father, Bor, was killed in battle when I was quite young. Sadly, my brothers suffered the same fate. But I expect that, had he lived, he would have been quite proud of both of my sons."

Loki and Thor were gobsmacked. Odin rarely spoke of Bor. He had been a fierce warrior, but had died far too soon, leaving Odin to rule before he was even a capable warrior himself. Beyond that, what little they knew about Bor was from legend. Truthfully, they had always known better than to ask. Grace, however, in her naivety and with her kind, inquisitive heart, had no such compunction.

"I'm sure he would be proud of them, and I'm sure he would be proud that you raised them to be such good men."

"Yes," Odin said, considering this. "I have raised two fine sons. A bit impatient, perhaps even reckless, at times. But good nonetheless."

Thor raised his glass. "Well, then, a toast to our grandfather. To his memory, and his legacy."

Everyone at the table raised their glasses, but Loki's mind was far away. He sat silently, gazing at Grace as though no one else was in the room. He looked at the way her hair framed her face, the smoothness of her skin. He thought about the way that her kind, generous, and easygoing nature had quickly caused even his generally humorless, serious father to discuss a topic he had rarely even broached with his sons. Years prior, he would never have expected to have had this change of heart about his father's feelings. And that, in his mind, made all the difference.

* * *

"That went well, don't you think?"

Grace rubbed her bare arms to keep warm in the cool evening air. She was perched on the edge of the balcony in his room, which would have ordinary scared the hell out of her, but she knew that even if she slipped, Loki would catch her.

He returned to the balcony with a warm, velour blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. "I couldn't imagine it going any better," he replied. "I told you that everything would go as well as we wanted it to. Are you tired?"

"Not really. Which is surprising, considering it's probably past my bedtime, whatever time it is here."

"We are not so old."

She smirked at him. "Well, you're only…what, a couple thousand years older than me?"

"I beg your pardon!" His feigned annoyance only served to make him more adorable. "I am only _a thousand_ years old, thank you very much."

She walked toward him and gave him a kiss. "I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

It amazed him that after all this time, her kiss could still make him feel like he'd never kissed another woman in his life. And over the last thousand years, no other woman had been able to do that. His expression suddenly turned profoundly serious.

"Grace," he said, carefully, as though he had never spoken her name before, "I would like to make something clear to you. I have never seen my father express the sentiment he did this evening." His arms were in front of him, hands clasped together, white at the knuckles. He was clearly tense.

She blushed and wondered what could have caused her normally confident-bordering-on-arrogant partner to turn into, well, her. "I hope I wasn't too forward or nosy or—"

"No, not at all. Admittedly, I was taken aback when you asked about my grandfather, but it appears that I, too, have much to learn about Odin. Which seems…appropriate."

"Appropriate? How so?"

He turned away from her to walk toward the far edge of the balcony, and she followed. "When I was young, my father told me that I was born to be a king. What he did not tell me was that I was born to be a king of an entirely different realm. As such, I always felt different, but it was because I _was _different."

"So you've said."

"And," he continued, "when I discovered I was, as I phrased it then, the monster parents tell their children about at night, it changed me. I convinced myself that I should simply live up to that destiny."

"Loki, we talked about this. You aren't that monster anymore." She reached up to touch his cheek, and he took her hand and kissed the palm.

"Please," he said gently, "please, let me get this out. Because I fear if I do not do it now, I may never have the courage again."

She pulled the blanket closer around her. "Sorry. Go on."

"What I am very clumsily trying to say is that because I felt different, like a monster, I never believed I would know love. Nor did I want to. And when my father sent me back to Midg—I mean, Earth—I had nothing left in my heart but vengeance and hatred. Until, that is, I was fortunate enough to meet you."

She was mesmerized by this soliloquy. It wasn't in Loki's nature to wax poetic, despite his voice making everything sound like poetry.

"When you brought me into your life and trusted me," he continued, "not only with your heart but also with your child, even after—no, _especially _after you found out my true identity, I realized that I could be more than what I or anyone else thought I was."

She sank back down onto the edge of the balcony. "Loki…" She wanted to say something, but realized she had no words to respond to what he was confessing.

He stopped and took a long, slow breath, then came to sit beside her again. He took her hands in one of his—the size difference never failed to amaze her—and looked straight into her eyes. "Do you remember when I told you about the Norns?"

"I do. It was when I told you about Amy's conception."

"And do you recall that I told you that they do not make mistakes? That they control our destiny?"

"I do."

"Grace, when I said that, I believed it. Yet, I did not truly understand it. But now, I think I do."

Her mouth felt dry and for no reason at all, her hands began to shake. "What are you saying to me, Loki?"

"I once believed my destiny to be a throne. And then, to be a monster. But in these last two years, I have realized my destiny is to be Amy's father…and your husband, if you will have me."

All the breath she had left inside her lungs escaped in a whoosh. She had imagined the moment of her engagement since she was old enough to know what a proposal was. She always expected it would be something cheesy, like on Valentine's Day or at Disneyland or something, so generic that she could steal someone else's story, and no one would be the wiser. But in a million years, she could never have dreamed she would be on another planet when it happened. She wasn't even sure she'd heard him correctly. "What did you just say?"

"I asked," he said, lowering himself to one knee, "if you would allow me the honor of being your husband." She was still aghast and definitely not prepared for this. But there was no question in her mind. He was simply asking her to do something that she knew would be the best decision of her life, something that did not even require thought to respond to.

Suddenly, for no reason at all, a hilarious thought popped into her head, one that related back to what Loki had told her about his time on Earth before she knew her. "I do not know if I should take laughter as a good or bad sign," he said.

"I'm sorry. It's just—I'm laughing because, well, you're kneeling before me."

It took him a second, but when it finally registered, he laughed too. Then, he took a small box from inside his armor—where he had pockets inside all of that, she had _no_ idea—and opened it. Inside was a delicate, silver band with a single emerald. It was perfect. She couldn't have imagined anything better.

And as he slipped the ring onto her hand, Loki leaned in toward her for a kiss, but stopped short to whisper in her ear, "In the end, I will always kneel."


	3. Constellations

**A/N: **I'm so sorry it took forever to update. What I lack in frequency, I make up for in length, though. I worked really hard on this chapter, and I hope that it brings you all a smile, a laugh, maybe even a tear. We're spending a little more time in Asgard in this chapter - originally I wanted them to be back on Earth, but their vacation didn't feel "complete" so I went back and added some more scenes there. Also, I've decided Odin is literally the worst character to try and write - he's humorless and I had to add some humor to him, which was not as easy as you might think. Please enjoy this chapter - I'm already working on the next one!

**Song:** "You're My Home" by Billy Joel

* * *

Loki was awakened by the sound of a child's laughter coming from the bathroom. He was unsure of the time, as he had against spent the evening in Grace and Amy's chambers, which, to his continued annoyance, had no windows. But he imagined it was sometime after 8:00 a.m, because that was generally when Amy awoke.

Stretching his long limbs from the top downward, he felt as though he had slept for years. The evening before had begun as a blur. Dinner had gone by in an instant, and for the most part, hadn't been particularly memorable, save for Grace extracting a story about Odin's father from Odin himself. But as to the rest, Loki had little memory. So preoccupied was he with proposing marriage that it was almost as though his mind would not allow anything else to imprint upon it.

Over and over, he had run through what he wanted to say and how and when to say it, all the while dealing with the nagging fear in his heart that he supposed any man proposing experienced—that she might say no. Even though he knew she loved him and that she considered them a family, he had the fleeting thought that she might not want to change things. But for him, simply being Grace's "boyfriend" wasn't what he wanted for the rest of his life. And, selfishly, he had to admit another motive: short of adopting her by Midgardian laws, he saw no better way to legitimize his status as Amy's father.

Just as he was getting out of bed, the bathroom door opened and Amy came out, wearing the towel that had an attached hood with cat ears on it, leaving a trail of footprints in her wake. He scooped her up and went back into the bathroom to find Grace cleaning out the tub, which was still covered in bubbles. He kissed her on the top of her head. "You know we have servants for that."

"I know, but I'm perfectly capable of cleaning up after myself—and extensions of myself."

"I realize that," he replied, drying Amy's hair with the hood of her towel, "but if you do it yourself, the servants will be out of a job."

Grace suddenly saw an opening. "Speaking of that, I wanted to mention something about Dagmar."

"I'm sorry, who?"

"You should get to know the people who clean your tub."

"Oh, yes. What about her?"

He carried Amy to the nursery, Grace trailing behind him. She got out a new diaper and proceeded to get Amy into it. He was good at many aspects of parenting—even better than Grace in some ways—but he simply couldn't get the hang of diapering. She couldn't wait for the day when Amy could dress herself. Once she managed to wrangle Amy into her diaper, she handed Loki the rest of the girl's clothes. "Well, last night, I was having a hell of a time with my hair, and I was so frustrated because it was an important night—"

"I do not think it was your hair that impressed my parents, my dear." Amy struggled against her tights as Loki pulled them on, but gladly allowed him to put on her yellow tutu.

"Yes," Grace replied, slightly annoyed with his interruption, "but even still, I wanted to look my best, and I was frustrated, and she helped me."

"Helped you?"

"With my hair. She did an amazing job with it. And because I felt so beautiful outside, I felt more confident, and _that_ is probably why I was so relaxed."

"Hm. So, you are saying…"

"I'm saying that she should be more than just a servant." She lifted Amy from the changing table and put her down on the rug, handing her a picture book. "She has talent, Loki. She has passion. And she deserves a chance to do what she loves rather than what's expected of her."

Truthfully, he had never given a thought to the palace servants. They were taught to make themselves invisible, and so most of his life, he hadn't been concerned with them. But in the kingdom, there was a caste system, and it had existed since before Bor was king. These were all considerations that needed to be taken into account.

"Grace," he began, carefully choosing his words, "I do not know what I can do. While I realize on Midgard, birth does not necessarily determine one's station in life, things here are different."

She leaned against the door, crossing her arms. He knew this posture well, and it meant that she was unmovable. "Loki, you're a prince. I'm sure there's something you can do. I'm not asking you to change the whole system. Just this one woman's chance at a better life."

He lowered his eyes. He wanted to please the woman he loved, of course, but he also did not want her to be disappointed if he was unsuccessful. But then, he glanced down at Amy—the child he wasn't supposed to have. The only reason he had this life was because Grace had taken a chance on him. She wanted to give him a better life, despite the hardship she had endured. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "I shall speak to Mother. Perhaps she will be able to suggest a solution."

Grace smiled, both because he had agreed to try and help and because she knew that he knew it was the right thing to do. Then she came forward to embrace him. Although she suspected he would have eventually agreed to it just to please her, she was happy that he wanted to help. That did not, however, mean she had to refrain from teasing him.

"You know, if you'd just accept that I'm always right, our lives would be much easier," she smirked.

He laughed and raised an eyebrow. "Woman, the day I admit that is the day I admit Thor is the better looking of the two of us."

"Well, he is the _strongest_ Avenger, anyway…"

She gave him a playful grin and turned to leave to take her own bath. But before she got even a half-step away, he caught her by the waist, pulling her back against his chest. He held one arm tightly around her, and with his other hand, pushed her chestnut hair away from her neck. She felt his breath warm against her ear, as he gave it a light nip.

"I may not be an Avenger, my sweet, and I may not have my brother's brawn, but I assure you, I am far more cunning and _far_ more creative."

She blushed. "Amy's still here, you know."

"I shall ensure she is well tended this evening," he replied, his voice both soft and firm, "so that I may tend to _you_."

With that, he released her without another word, sat down on the floor with Amy, and proceeded to look at her book with her, while Grace was left breathless. As she headed to the bathroom, she smiled, realizing that although she had won the battle, Loki had definitely won the war.

* * *

"Sneaking off without me, are you?" Grace entered the main chamber still wearing a towel around her hair. Loki and Amy looked like they were just about to head out.

"Not sneaking." He motioned toward a piece of paper on the bed, which she picked up.

_Darling, I thought perhaps you might enjoy some time to relax after yesterday. Expect a visitor in an hour's time. We shall return early this evening. If you need to reach me, you need only say my name three times. I love you._

"First, I get not one, but two bubble baths in the span of two days, and now an entire afternoon to enjoy?" she said, eyebrows raised in surprise.

He shrugged. "I know, it is a heavy load to bear. But I assure you, it will be worth it."

"I'm sure that I will be able to survive."

He kissed her on the forehead before taking Amy by the hand and leading her out, leaving Grace in the quiet. In fact, it was too quiet. So, she picked up her phone to play some music; thankfully, Loki had been able to manipulate Asgardian technology to allow them to charge their phones.

The playlist she chose was one that she created during the early stages of her relationship with him—back when she knew him only as Luke. She had been making playlists that were meaningful to a certain time or event in her life ever since she'd been able to use a computer. She had one for her pregnancy, one for her high school years, one for the year she spent in France during college, and now, as the sound of "Kiss Me" by Ed Sheeran filled the room, she thought about the first time she and Loki made love. She had been so fearful, and he had responded with an unparalleled tenderness. That was the night she'd truly begun to heal from her ordeal with her rapist.

And then, it occurred to her that once again, something important had just happened, something that marked a new era. "Something," she said to no one in particular, "that deserves a playlist."

She finished dressing and making herself look somewhat presentable, but she was only able to start curating a list of potential songs when the visitor Loki promised knocked on the door. When she opened it, the blood drained from her face.

"Oh my God," was all she could say to Frigga, who was dressed as regally as she had been the night before. She wished Loki had told her who the mystery guest would be, since she was clearly not as prepared to be in the company of royalty.

"Hello Grace," Frigga said. "May I come in?" Grace, still quite unable to form coherent thoughts, stepped to the side and allowed Frigga past her. The queen looked around the room as if she were inspecting it. She motioned toward the wall where a balcony might have been. "I see my son's wishes were ignored."

"Oh, please don't worry about that," Grace replied. "This is more beautiful than anything I could have imagined."

"You are too kind. I am glad that you have enjoyed your time here thus far. Has Loki shown you much of the palace?"

"Honestly, not really," Grace said, almost apologetically. "It's been kind of a whirlwind."

The queen smiled softly. "So I see." It was then that Grace remembered the ring on her hand. She tried to hide it behind her back, but then felt silly; obviously, Frigga had already noticed it. Seeing the worry play across Grace's face, Frigga shook her head. "My dear, Loki already told us. How do you think he came by the emerald?"

Grace touched the ring. "I—well—thank you. It's incredibly beautiful."

"My son has excellent taste in jewelry. And, if I may say so, wives as well."

Grace blushed. "Thank you, your Maj—"

Frigga held up a hand. "Please," she said, "use my name."

"Now I know how Dagmar feels," Grace laughed.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, the young woman who tends to the room. When I first got here, I asked her to just call me Grace instead of 'Lady Grace'."

"And she protested, I presume?"

"Eventually she agreed, but now, I think I understand why she felt so weird about it."

Frigga crossed the room. She stood close enough that Grace could see that, even though they weren't related by blood, Frigga and Loki shared the same piercing gaze. "My son tells me you have noticed a particular proficiency this girl exhibits."

Grace was pleased to know that Loki had already mentioned it to his mother, although she wondered when he had time between their discussion and Frigga's visit. "She is an amazing hairstylist. She was the one who did my hair last night. I just…" She hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I feel like she should be more than just a servant for the rest of her life."

Frigga didn't say anything but led Grace to the door. "Come. There's something I'd like to show you."

Grace followed the queen out of the room, down the long hallway, and around the same corner that she and Loki had turned the previous evening. "Loki didn't tell me you were coming," she said suddenly. "I apologize if I've been a little…weird."

"My son is full of surprises," Frigga replied with a knowing look. "He's always been mischievous, even as a boy."

Grace recognized this as an opportunity to find out about Loki's childhood outside of the stories Thor told or the bits and pieces Loki himself would occasionally volunteer. "When did he start doing magic?"

Frigga smiled wistfully. "Oh, he showed promise quite soon after Odin brought him to Asgard. I was raised by witches and I knew magical ability when I saw it. Loki could conjure his own milk when he was only a year old."

Grace hoped her next question wouldn't come across as insensitive. "When you saw him for the first time, was he—I mean, did he look—"

Frigga, like Loki, seemed to have an intuitive sense of what others were thinking before they could express it. "You want to know if he looked like us, or like his birth parents."

Grace nodded. "Yes."

"When my husband found him," Frigga continued, "he was as all Frost Giants are. However, as I said, Loki had inherent magical ability. He changed before Odin's eyes. Even then, he wanted to be accepted."

"When I first met him, he didn't seem to want anyone's approval," Grace said as they passed the doors to the Great Hall. She hadn't been any farther into the castle than this and wondered how anyone managed to not get lost.

Frigga placed a hand on Grace's arm. "Oh, he did. But anger, disappointment…they mask a great deal of one's true needs." Suddenly, the queen stopped and turned to face Grace, a brief flash of worry in her eyes. "I know you love my son. But with that love will come many trials."

"Your Maj—Frigga," Grace said, her voice shaky, "do you not want us to get married?"

"Forgive me," Frigga replied. "I don't wish to deprive you of the joy of this occasion. I only mean to suggest that it is quite unusual for a mortal to marry an Asgardian, or, in this case, a Jotun."

"Well, I realize the age difference is a bit unconventional." At that, the queen laughed. "I love him," Grace added, "and there's nothing in my world or this one that would change that."

Frigga studied Grace's face, and then her expression softened. "Come."

She walked on, Grace following her, still wondering what Frigga was concerned about. Soon, they came to a set of stairs in a stone tower, and once they climbed them, Grace was slightly winded. A few feet away was another balcony that stretched along the entire side of the palace and to her right was a set of elaborately carved double doors. Frigga motioned for her to follow and then pushed the doors open.

They stepped inside and Grace found herself surrounded by the most beautiful jewels she had ever seen. Gorgeous, delicate chains held jewels wrapped in silver bindings. Sapphire, ruby, and diamond earrings lay in trays along one wall, and all manner of bracelets lined another. She was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of it all, to say nothing of the spectrum of colors and textures and materials.

She turned to look back at Frigga, who was absently playing with her own delicate ring, which Grace assumed to be her wedding band. "I—I don't know what to say," she said, in awe of what lay before her. "What are we doing here?"

Frigga stepped further inside the room, shutting the door behind her. "Loki asked me to bring you here because only members of our family can enter this room. He thought it might be something I might like to do, as well."

"But—why, though?"

Frigga looked around the room as casually as if it were an art gallery. "As I mentioned earlier, the ring you now wear is fashioned from jewels owned by our family. But a proper bride—a _royal_ bride—should have more than simply a ring."

Grace slowly turned in a circle, trying to decide if she should ask for something specific, and feeling quite uncomfortable with the concept of being a royal anything. It shouldn't have shocked her, really. Loki was a prince, after all. But she had fallen in love with the mortal he had become, not the Asgardian demigod prince he was, so she supposed she was still adjusting to that part of him. And being brought to a secret room of priceless family heirlooms was a shock to her system.

Seemingly reading Grace's mind again, Frigga cleared her throat. "May I suggest something?"

Grace nodded emphatically. "Please do. I'm out of my element here."

"Not to worry," said the queen, walking past Grace to a chandelier from which hung several necklaces of varying lengths and styles. Grace silently prayed that Frigga would pick something simple; she had never been one for elaborate jewelry and getting used to having her engagement ring was going to be enough of a challenge. After some thought, Frigga reached up and levitated one of the necklaces toward her. She breathed a sigh of relief. What Frigga had chosen was a thin, shimmery silver chain which held a small teardrop crystal that, at first glance, looked as though light was refracting off of it. However, when Frigga held it out, Grace realized that it wasn't a play of the light after all. The crystal actually _contained_ light, which glowed a bright, swirling gold.

Frigga looped the necklace around Grace's neck from behind. "This crystal is enchanted, as you probably suspect," she said.

She secured the clasp, and Grace looked down at it, touching it gently, as though it might break. "I did kind of suspect that."

"The light you see within the crystal is the light you see before you." Frigga gestured to the window on the far wall of the room, through which the golden sun shone. "When the light shines in Asgard, so too will the light shine in it. And when nightfall comes, the crystal will be lit by the stars."

Grace's eyes widened. "I can't possibly take this. It's a lovely gesture, but I'm just a human, _and_ I live in one of the biggest cities in the world. What happens if it gets stolen?"

"Shh," Frigga said, putting a finger to her lips. "You may be a mortal, but you are beloved by my son, and therefore beloved by me. It would be a great joy to me if you would accept this. And as for your fears, the crystal will always be under the protection of Asgard. If it is taken from you, it will return to our realm. It is yours and yours only otherwise."

That made Grace feel much less uneasy. "In that case, I'd be honored to accept it."

Frigga smiled in satisfaction. "I am glad to hear that. This way, you shall always have a piece of Asgard with you—with all of you."

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was a bit of a blur, but the kind of blur that comes from not having anything particularly pressing to do, so that your mind slows, relaxes, and allows you some quiet. After bidding farewell to Frigga, Grace had been on her way back to her chamber when she ran into Jane, who had returned to Asgard for a short visit with Thor.

The two spent a while catching up while taking a walk near the river. At some point, she asked if anyone had shown Grace the library. When Grace immediately lit up, Jane knew the answer, so she took Grace to it. It was overwhelming. It didn't seem possible that there was a library more magnificent than the one Loki worked in, but then, there were many things Grace hadn't thought possible that, in fact, were.

"I'm so glad that I can make a reference to Beauty and the Beast and someone will understand it," she had said, to Jane's amusement.

And so it was that Grace found herself sitting on an enormous, stone pillar on the second level of the palace, legs tucked under her, the sunlight just starting to dip into the sea, reading a book about the history of Asgard. She had taken several books out, in fact; in addition to the one she was currently reading, she had selected a compendium of children's stories, a book about the other realms—she was, obviously, particularly curious about Jotunheim—and a selection of poetry from an author Loki had mentioned liking. It would take her months to get through just these books, and she wondered how many of them he had managed to read.

Suddenly, as though she had summoned him, Loki appeared, carrying a sleeping Amy over his shoulder. His shirt collar was pulled to one side, grasped in the child's fist, and his hair was falling over one eye since he was using both hands to steady her and couldn't push it away. It was in moments like this that Grace felt a rush, heat and chills at the same time. Like she was seeing him for the first time all over again.

His green eyes glittered in the last of the evening light as he saw her. "My darling, I am so sorry we are so late, but we had quite an adventurous day and time doesn't quite work the same way here as on Earth."

Grace gestured toward Amy, gently touching her hair as Loki sat down next to her. "I can see how exhausting it was. Where have you been all day?"

"Oh," he said, "well, my plan had been to go into the market and purchase some delicacies to take back with us, and then to come retrieve you so that we could, at last, introduce my parents to our child. But then, we ran into some children in the square, and before I knew it…"

Grace laughed quietly. "It's good to know that no matter the realm, kids are just kids. Did they all play nicely?"

"They did," he said. "We stayed there for quite some time before we made it to the market. I picked up some spices for your mother and a few types of ale for your father."

"Oh, that was sweet of you!"

He kissed her on the cheek. "It was nothing, at least compared to the gift they have given me."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Do you just keep lines like that in reserve?"

"Would you have me any other way? Besides, your parents were so pleased when I discussed with them my plan to ask for your hand—"

Her eyebrows shot up. "You asked them for permission?"

"Of course not," he said with false indignation. "You are not a goat to be bartered for. I merely wanted them to be aware."

Grace brightened. She appreciated Loki's refusal to abide by social norms, particularly given that, from what she had read about Asgard's royal family, arranged marriages were the norm. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sure they did appreciate that."

"Shall we get her to bed then?" he asked, looking down at Amy, still asleep in his arms. "Perhaps you can tell me what you've been reading while we dine."

* * *

An hour later, after putting Amy to bed and summoning Dagmar to watch over her, Grace and Loki sat down to a late dinner in a quiet corner of the palace. A small table and two of the same type of chairs as had been in the great hall were in the room, which was open to the air—not exactly a balcony, but more like a sunroom without the windows. When they had sat down, a servant brought two wine goblets full of a smooth, smoky, red vintage, which warmed Grace through to her toes. The first course had been steamed artichokes with drawn butter, as well as warm, freshly baked bread. Now they had moved on to crisp roast duck with a citrus sauce, which was so tender it nearly melted in her mouth.

"How are you not eight thousand pounds, growing up with food like this?" she asked.

"Genetics," Loki said, and she laughed. Then she saw his gaze float slightly downward. "You selected quite an interesting piece of jewelry, love."

It was then that she realized she had been absently playing with the crystal. She looked at it, and sure enough, it was now a dark purple, with just the slightest hint of white, glittering stars swirling inside. "Oh, yes. Actually, your mom—"

"Ah, I should have guessed," he said. "My mother always did have excellent taste. That is, of course, why I am her favorite son."

"I'm just glad she took pity on me and offered a suggestion. I was overwhelmed!"

"I imagine it would be somewhat difficult to select anything from our stores without at least a little guidance."

"It's not even just that." She took a bite of her food, almost distracted by how delicious it was. "I'm still getting used to having this ring on my hand. I never did wear much jewelry, and now I have _two_ literally priceless pieces."

"Ah, but because you know they are priceless, you will treasure them that much more," he replied. "On a somewhat related note, did you find the library to your liking?"

"I think I liked that even more than the jewelry. No wonder you love books so much. I've never seen so many in one place. Especially books about places I didn't even know existed until now."

As she launched into a rundown of all the books she had seen, including those she had checked out, Loki smiled into his wine glass. His love of reading was strong, yes—that was one of the things he most loved sharing with Amy—but Grace got downright giddy when she talked about what she was reading, what she had read, and what she wanted to read. As she was telling him about something she read about Odin's conquest of Surtur—a story he knew well, of course, but he didn't want to spoil her excitement—something occurred to him.

"Grace, have you read anything about Thanos in those books?"

"Thanos?" she repeated, in a tone that suggested she had not.

Loki had never really revealed anything to her about his experiences with Thanos or his minions. He wanted to spare her the details of how he had come to be what he was when he met her, and, more importantly, he didn't want to remind her of his complicity in her sexual assault. Moreover, on a selfish level, he was still deeply ashamed of his actions. But now that she was going to be part of Asgard's history, however tangentially, he had begun to think that perhaps she should know.

"It's just—"

Before he could finish, they were interrupted by the servant, who approached the table and bowed. "I am sorry to interrupt your meal, Highness, but Dagmar sends word that your daughter has awakened and has asked for you."

"So much for dessert," Grace said, rising from the table. He followed suit.

"What is it that mortals say about parenting? Cherish these moments, because you'll miss them?"

"People who say that are past these moments," she replied, as they began the journey back to real life.

* * *

The next few days passed all too quickly for Grace. They were filled with walks along the river, a horseback ride—just her and Loki, as Amy was still too small—and another trip to the market, where she bought three gorgeous silk scarves for her friends, a handmade doll for Amy, and her most favorite find, a long, deep purple cloak. Not that she needed it, but the pattern of swirls and stars was too gorgeous to pass up. Before either she or Loki knew it, the last day of their trip was upon them.

She ran her hand over his stomach as they lay on her bed. "Do we really have to go back?" His breath was steady and slow, and she watched her hand rise and fall with the rhythm while Amy played quietly with a stuffed penguin on the floor next to the bed.

"Sadly, we must. I'm quite sure our respective employers would notice our absences." He looked down at her, only able to see the top of her head tucked under his arm. "Could you be happy here?"

"Living in a castle, with guaranteed childcare and an unbelievable library? Why do you think I asked if we had to go back?" Suddenly, she sat up, propping herself on one hand. "Why would you choose to live on Earth rather than here, anyway?"

"I do not choose to live on Earth," he said. "I choose to live with you. And your life is there, so mine is as well."

"Don't you ever miss this? Or your family? I mean, I've only been away from my apartment and my parents for a week and I already miss them."

"I will admit that I am more given to pangs of sentiment now than I once was," he replied, "but my family is also on Earth, in our home."

She squinted at him. "You still don't trust your father." It was more a statement than a question.

He stared off into the distance, focusing on the bedpost rather than look at her. "It is not that simple," he replied quietly. "Odin is a complicated man. We spent many years at odds. Even Thor admits our father made his share of mistakes. As did I. But such wounds are not so easily healed."

She put her hand on top of one of his. "If you don't want to go tonight, we don't have to."

He shook his head as if he were trying to shake something loose. "No, the Allfather and my mother have requested we come, and besides, don't you think"—he caught his words in the back of his throat—"that they ought to at least meet who would appear to be the only grandchild they will have anytime soon?"

She smiled, pleased that he hadn't taken her up on her offer. Truth be told, she was happy that Odin and Frigga wanted to meet Amy. Frigga had mentioned it at the dinner before Loki proposed, but Grace hadn't been sure that it would really happen. But upon arriving back at the palace after their trip to his garden that day, they had received word that they were invited to the palace observatory that evening, and that they should bring Amy. Ordinarily, Grace wouldn't have wanted to keep her awake so late, but this was, to put it mildly, a special occasion. So, they gave her a late afternoon nap to head off any exhaustion-related tantrums and hoped for the best.

She suddenly looked at her watch. "Oh, shit. We should get her ready to go. You know how much she loves putting on layers."

He hopped off the bed and wandered off to the nursery to find appropriate clothing in which to dress Amy for what would almost surely be a rather crisp evening. Meanwhile, Grace gathered Amy into her arms and lifted her overhead to smell for any reason to change her diaper. She had never been so relieved to smell poop in her life. The last thing she wanted was to have to lug the diaper bag along to an evening with the royal family. _Things I never expected to think about for $100, Alex…_

Fifteen minutes later, they were shutting the door behind them and heading for the observatory. Grace held Amy as they walked; although she could walk steadily on her own, sometimes, efficiency took precedence. "You're absolutely _sure_ they wanted all three of us to come?" she asked, not for the first time.

"Absolutely," he replied reassuringly. "As I said, they would like to meet their grandchild, although I realize Odin does not appear to be the grandfatherly type."

"Oh, come on now. He adopted you, after all."

"Yes, for a purpose."

"I understand that, but if he didn't love you, he wouldn't have let you bring us here," she reminded him. "Besides, being a grandpa is different than being a father. Rachel's dad was a literal drill sergeant, but when she had her kids, he totally changed."

"Do not take offense to this, but Odin has had centuries to become set in his ways."

"People change."

"Not always."

As they reached the winding staircase that would lead them to the observatory, she passed Amy off to him and smiled. "You did."

She was winded again after climbing what seemed like a skyscraper's worth of stairs. _One would think chasing a toddler around would make this easier_, she thought. She was glad to have had Loki climb the stairs holding Amy or else she might have passed out. But just when she managed to catch her breath, it was taken away again. The balcony here—did this palace have anywhere without a balcony?—wrapped all the way around the staircase, providing a 360-degree vantage point. In front of them was an unbelievably huge telescope that would make an astrophysicist's eyes water. Beyond that, she could see the Bifrost and briefly wondered what Heimdall could see that very minute. The sky seemed to have gotten bigger here, and so did the stars, lighting the tower enough that she was able to see Amy, to her left, grinning in delight.

Suddenly, a flash from the other side of the platform drew her attention. Although he was dressed slightly more casually in a white robe embroidered with delicate silver thread, Odin walked toward them with a king's authority. He carried his staff in one hand, and Frigga's hand was in the other. The queen took one look at Amy, who Loki had set down at his side, and immediately broke into a wide grin—the same smile that Grace's own mother had when she first saw her grandchild. Some things were clearly universal. Odin was slightly harder to read, although both Grace and Loki had been prepared for that. He had the universe's best poker face.

"Mother. Father." Loki cleared his throat as he greeted his parents. Grace wondered if his addressing Frigga first was chivalry or a subtle dig at Odin.

Frigga kissed each of them on the cheek. Loki blushed slightly, as if he was suddenly a little boy again, both happy and embarrassed to receive his mother's affection. "Loki, Grace, thank you for joining us."

"Thank you for inviting us," Grace said. "All of us."

She felt Amy hanging onto the back of her leg, clearly shy and probably slightly scared. Sensing this, Frigga knelt and peered around Grace, catching Amy's eyes briefly.

"Hello," the queen said quietly. "I'm Frigga. You must be Amy. Won't you come say hello?"

Grace appreciated that Frigga was being so gentle with her daughter, although she suspected that it came quite naturally. Frigga stayed very still but held out her hand, and very slowly, Amy crept out from between her parents' legs. Her eyes were saucers, revealing fear but also curiosity. Loki wondered if perhaps he should give Amy some reassurance, but before he could, Frigga manifested a small light in the palm of her hand that grew into an ethereal, blue bird. Amy watched it, mesmerized, and gradually came close enough to Frigga's hand that she could have reached out and touched the bird.

"Birdy," she said, pointing to the light and looking up at Loki, as if she wanted to make sure she was using the right word.

He smiled encouragingly. "That's right, my darling. Would you like to see something else?"

Amy nodded enthusiastically. He looked at Frigga, who also nodded. Then, he bent down and before Amy and Grace's eyes produced a similar bird from his fingertips. This one, however, was red, and began to "dance" with the one in Frigga's palm, until they blended to create a bigger, purple bird—Amy's favorite color. The bird grew larger and larger until it was the size of an eagle and finally flew off into the clouds.

"Magic," Amy said to Frigga, who smiled back at her.

"Would you like to meet someone else who can perform magic?" Loki asked. He pointed toward Odin, who was still standing behind Frigga, impassive but not intimidating.

"Would you like to come and meet him?" Frigga asked.

Amy looked up at her mother. "How about if Daddy goes with you?" Grace suggested.

That seemed to soothe Amy, who took Loki's hand. They walked together toward Odin, Amy watching him carefully, as though she realized how powerful he was. Loki scanned his father's face for any sign that would betray his emotions, but was disappointed. When they were within arm's reach, he picked Amy up so that she was eye level with Odin.

Frigga, on the other hand, turned to Grace and motioned for her to come forward as well. "You are also our family," she whispered. "You belong at Loki's side."

In that instant, Grace loved Frigga as a daughter loves a mother.

Loki hoisted Amy higher onto his hip. "Father," he said, "I would like you to meet your grandchild, Amy Rose Lawson."

Odin took a moment before he said anything, almost as though he was studying the child. Then he glanced at Grace, who wasn't looking back at him. She was, in fact, looking at Loki and Amy.

And then, Loki saw it: Odin's mouth twitched at the corner. His eyes softened, and Loki could swear he almost saw a twinkle.

"Hello," he said to Amy, who curled back into Loki's shoulder. "It is an honor to meet the child who made my son a father."

When Amy continued to hide, Grace smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, she's not usually this shy."

Odin shook his head. "It is quite understandable. Alas, it is my queen who can conjure pretty birds and balls of light to coax children out of hiding. All I have to offer is this."

He thumped his staff on the ground and then pointed it at the sky. Suddenly, the darkness was illuminated as if fireworks were exploding, but instead of colored lights, it looked like a thousand stars crisscrossed each other and then slowly began to fall into the atmosphere. Amy reached out a hand and watched with wonder as one of the stars landed on her palm and disintegrated.

"She actually caught a falling star," Grace said to Frigga, with almost childlike wonder in her voice. "It's too bad she's too young to remember this."

Frigga leaned over to Grace and whispered, "You would be surprised at what lingers in our minds, whether we know it or not."

By then, Amy had stopped hiding in Loki's shoulder, so he put her down on the ground next to him. Odin looked at her, then at Loki. "Have you been teaching her the constellations?"

"Not quite yet," Loki replied, looking slightly embarrassed. "I believe she is yet a bit too young to comprehend—"

"Then it is a good thing you have come here tonight," Odin said to Amy. "Would you like to learn about the stars?" The child nodded excitedly, and Odin extended his hand to her. She took it gingerly and walked off to the other side of the tower with her grandfather.

"Well," Loki said, once Odin was out of earshot, "there's something I never expected to see."

Frigga smiled and put her hand on one of his pale cheeks. "It was not so long ago that he was doing the same thing with you and your brother."

Grace smiled at the image of Loki as a child. It was too bad that photography was not one of Asgard's technological advances. She wished she could see him as he was. Meanwhile, Loki could hear Odin explaining zodiac constellations to Amy, and knew instinctively that she would demand every astronomy book she could get her hands on when they got home. The truth was, he couldn't have been happier.

"Thank you, Mother," he said quietly. "It means a great deal to both of us that you and Father have given your blessings to us and accepted our child."

"As I told you many years ago," she replied, "you are our son, and we your family. Who you love, so too do we."

"Thank you just the same," Grace said, taking Loki's hand. "I've never had a more wonderful vacation. I'm only sorry we can't stay longer."

He could see a slight change in Frigga's eyes. It was so quick and so subtle that he only saw it because he was her son and he knew her that well. Her smile stayed steady, however. "I'm certain we shall see each other again before you know it."

Suddenly, Amy came darting back around the balcony, waving her arms excitedly. "Mommy! Daddy! Come quick!"

"What's up, baby?" Grace asked.

"Grandpa made the stars move! I saw a lion and a fish!"

* * *

"Oh my God!"

"Finally!"

"Let's see the ring!"

Rachel, Leah, and Stacy were sitting in Grace's living room, a bottle of wine on the coffee table, and, by their reactions, Grace could tell they'd been expecting this for some time. "Well," she said, "it was after the banquet with his family and about half of Asgard."

"Please tell me he didn't do a public proposal," Rachel said.

"No, no, it was totally private. In fact, now that I think about it, I think he was trying all day to find a good time to do it. He was acting weird, like asking if I was happy with our life together."

"Wow," Leah said. "I'd have been thinking he was going to break up with me."

Grace rolled her eyes. "Well, thank God _that_ didn't occur to me until this very moment."

"I'm just glad he did it in private," Rachel said. "I don't want to have to kill him."

"You mean you don't want to have to kill him _anymore_," Stacy corrected her.

"Well, it's way too hard to find a good librarian," Rachel replied.

Stacy turned back to Grace. "Anyway, now we need the story of your totally private proposal."

"Well..." she began, trying to remember the story exactly. She never wanted to forget a second of it, but she had been so stunned that she wasn't even sure she could remember his exact words. But boy, did she remember how she _felt_. "We were on the balcony of his room. We had finished dinner, and then used Amy as an excuse to escape. I was fine staying, but I think after two weeks of hanging out with his dad, being a public figure, he just wanted some downtime."

"Funny, spending time with a two-year-old isn't my idea of downtime," Leah said.

"Well, we only went to check on her," Grace said. "She was still asleep, so we went back to his chamber. He has that gorgeous view I told you about. Oh! I took pictures!" She went to pull her phone out to show them, but Stacy nearly slapped it out of her hand.

"No! Story now, photos later!"

Grace threw the phone aside and pulled her hair into a ponytail. "Okay, okay! Where was I?"

"You were on the balcony," the three women said in almost perfect unison.

"Geez, you'd think this was something exciting," Grace replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Anyway, so, we're on the balcony, and I got chilly, so he got a blanket for me. And I made some joke about his age, and some other small talk, and then he got really awkward again. And that's when he started talking to me about how he'd never seen his dad get so sentimental—"

"Wait, back up," Rachel said. Grace realized she hadn't told them about her conversation with Odin at dinner. So, she did, and then continued the story where she'd left off.

"So, he says that thing about sentiment, and then he started to tell me how he never felt like he fit in, and when he realized why, he became the monster he thought he should be."

"Hence his rebellious, I-want-to-be-king-so-I'll-destroy-the-world stage?" Rachel scoffed. Leah smacked her in the arm.

"Well—yes," Grace said, "in so many words."

"See?" Rachel said, smacking Leah in return.

"So then, he said that when he met me, he had nothing but hatred in his heart, but he eventually realized that his true destiny was to be Amy's father and my husband, if I would have him." She choked up at the memory.

"That's unbelievably sweet, and yet…so unsurprising," Stacy said.

"Man, all I got from my husband was a standard, 'Want to get married?'" Leah added.

"So?" Stacy said. "Let's see it!"

Grace turned the silver band on her left ring finger so that the emerald was upright. She had taken to wearing it so that the jewel was inside her palm when she left the house, and since she wanted to surprise the girls, she'd left it that way when she came home from work.

"Oh my God," Rachel exclaimed, taking Grace's hand so they could all get a better look. "Where did he get this? Is this _real_?"

"Totally real," Grace said. "The emerald is from his family's collection. They've got a few that have been in the family for thousands of years. And he told me the band was made—get this—by _dwarves_ on another planet. It's made from nearly indestructible silver. Apparently, the only thing that can destroy it is Thor's hammer."

"Well, that's good, since you are the only person I know who managed to destroy an iPhone while it was inside an Otterbox," said Stacy.

"Hey, that wasn't my fault," Grace said. "Amy threw it under the car, and I didn't know it until I heard the crunch!"

"Yeah, okay, we'll go with that."

Leah poured another glass of wine. "So, when's the wedding?"

"Uh, the more important question is, _where_ is the wedding?" Rachel said. "Do we have to literally go to the ends of the earth?"

"That would be a hell of a destination wedding, wouldn't it?" Grace laughed. "To be honest, I haven't had time to think about it yet. We only got engaged a few days ago."

"And I guess you have to decide which side would travel better," Leah said. "How big would his side be?"

"You know, I get the idea that Loki is kind of a loner," Stacy said. "Does he have any friends out there?"

"Not that I know of. There are the people Thor hangs out with who Loki knows, but I wouldn't exactly call them friends, you know? I mean, he did kind of try to kill Thor."

"A couple of times, from what you've told us," Rachel said.

"So, when do you think you'll do this?" Leah asked again.

"Like I said, I don't know. I'll have to find out if he has any preferences."

"I'm gonna go with no," Rachel said. "I can barely get him to give me an opinion on the new book orders."

"He has opinions on weird things," Grace replied. "Like when I tried to redecorate, he insisted that he didn't want red."

"Why?" Stacy asked.

Grace lowered her voice. "Believe it or not, we had a fight about it before I got it out of him."

"I can't imagine you two fighting," Leah said. "After everything you went through together, what's left to fight about?"

"The same things as other couples. Like interior decorating."

"So why is he against red?"

"Well, it's not even about red so much as red in the bedroom, specifically."

"Okay?"

Grace looked almost embarrassed. "Have you seen photos of his brother?"

"Yeah, sure," Leah said. "He was all over the news from the battle footage."

"And do you remember what he was wearing?"

"Of course. It'd be impossible to forget how insane that armor—"

The room went silent, and then Stacy burst out laughing. "Oh my God, the red cape! You gotta be shitting me, right?"

"Well, would _you_ want to be reminded of your brother every time you had sex?" Grace asked.

"I'd like to be reminded of _his_ brother every time I—"

"Okay, yeah, thanks for that," Grace replied. "I just wish it hadn't taken a huge fight to get him to admit it."

The front door swung open and in walked Loki, his right hand in Amy's left, holding a bag of groceries with the other. "Admit what?"

Grace got off the couch and took the grocery bag from him. "Oh, nothing. Just talking about how you finally admitted you were wrong about who makes the better coffee."

"Ah," he replied, while taking Amy's galoshes off. The girl kicked, trying to help, but that only succeeded in getting mud all over the floor. "Well, you may have won that argument, but I make the better breakfast, and what's coffee without breakfast?"

"Breakfast doesn't exist without coffee," she shot back. He stood up and kissed her on the forehead.

"Oh, please," Rachel said with a roll of her eyes. "You can so tell you two just got engaged."

"And speaking of that," Leah said, rising to her feet along with Stacy, "congratulations! Grace just showed us the ring."

"Yeah, it's beautiful, Loki. Really perfect."

He smiled, bowing his head slightly. "Did you expect anything less?"

"You make all the other husbands look bad," Grace said, grabbing the wine glasses from the table.

"Yeah, really," Stacy agreed. "It's not enough that you have an accent and you're an above average cook, but you have to pick the best jewelry too?"

"And Grace deserves nothing less," Rachel said. That was surprising to Grace—not that Rachel thought it, but because she said it. Like Odin, it wasn't like Rachel at all to be sentimental. She was also never Loki's biggest fan, although she'd grown less cold toward him over the last six months. Even he was surprised at Rachel's remark, and very little shocked him.

"I know," he simply said, unpacking the groceries as if nothing significant had occurred. "I am glad to have earned your approval, however." Where this may have sounded snarky coming from anyone else, from him, it was a simple statement of gratitude, for he knew that it was partly due to these three women that Grace had forgiven him at all.

"And on that note, we will show ourselves out," Stacy said. She grabbed all three of their coats and doled them out. Everyone said their goodnights—Amy had, by then, run off to her room to play and could not be persuaded to come out, but yelled her I-love-yous from afar—and soon, Loki and Grace were alone in their kitchen, a half-empty bottle of wine between them.

"Did you have an enjoyable evening, my dear?" he asked. "I hope you are hungry. My trip to the market was a rousing success."

"Oh yeah? What that usually means is that we're having breakfast for dinner." She poured a glass of wine and handed it to him.

"Have I become so predictable?"

"No," she replied, "you aren't predictable. Only your meal planning is."

He grinned and took a sip of the wine. "Well, perhaps we should order in."

She raised an eyebrow. "And let the bacon just sit in the fridge? What kind of girl do you take me for?"

"Certainly not a kosher one."

She laughed. "So, what did you and Amy do, other than the market?"

"Well, we went to the playground down the street, but it was quite muddy from the rain," he said, "so instead, we went to an aquarium."

"Oh! She probably loved that. Did you teach her any new fish?"

"As it happens, she informs me that what I believed to be a clownfish is, in fact, something called Nemo." Grace burst out laughing and explained to him the Disney movie to which Amy had referred. He shook his head. "Midgardians certainly have active imaginations."

"Said the man who can cast an illusion of himself whenever he wants?"

"I don't recall you ever seeing me do that," he replied, putting the bacon into the oven.

Grace, meanwhile, cracked a few eggs into a bowl and whisked them briskly, adding some chives and cheddar cheese to the mix. "Do you not recall Thor telling that story about you faking out Fandral during a party and tying his bootlaces to a chair while he conversed with your illusion?"

He leaned back against the counter and took another sip of wine. "To be fair, I was only two hundred years old at the time." When Grace's expression didn't change, he clarified. "That's about eight human years."

She smiled. "Somehow, I feel like you'd do it again at a thousand years old."

He returned her smile but feigned innocence. "Becoming a parent has matured me." She merely raised an eyebrow at him, and he caved. "All right, I yield. It was indeed hilarious."

"There's my trickster God," she said. Suddenly, as she poured the egg mixture into the hot pan, she inhaled sharply. He sensed something amiss—so attuned to her body was he that he could recognize a change in her breath as easily as he could when she colored her hair.

"Darling? What's the matter?"

She hesitated, holding her breath. "Um, nothing," she finally said. "I just—can you watch the eggs? I need to check on Amy."

"I can check—" he started, but Grace held up a hand.

"Loki, please!" she snapped, almost throwing the spatula at him as she ran past.

"Grace!" He wondered what was so urgent about checking on Amy that she would act that way. Had he inadvertently said something to upset her? Had she heard Amy cry out and he'd somehow missed it? Suddenly, he heard the water running in the bathroom. _Ah, _he thought. _She must have wanted to clean Amy up for dinner. _He didn't quite understand why she had snapped at him or been so suddenly overcome with the need to do it. But then, despite hundreds of years of experience, he still did not totally understand women, Midgardian or otherwise. The eggs were about finished when he heard the toilet flush, and Grace reappeared shortly thereafter.

"Is she ready for dinner, then?" he asked, removing the pan from the heat as the oven went off.

Grace gave him a quizzical look. "I—what?"

"Amy. You were checking on her, yes?"

"Oh. Yeah, she is." She called to Amy, who came walking down the hallway carrying the new doll Loki had given her. Grace picked her up. "Come on, baby, let's wash your hands."

At that, Loki stopped plating the food. If Grace hadn't been washing Amy's hands in the bathroom, what on earth had she gone off to do? Before he could ask, however, Amy knocked her sippy cup from the counter, spilling its contents onto the floor. Grace put her in her highchair and grabbed a handful of paper towels.

"We lead such a glamorous life, don't we?" she said with a grin as she cleaned up the mess.

He was so relieved to see her mood lift again that he completely forgot about her outburst. "I believe," he said, "that I have had enough excitement for a lifetime."


	4. Unexpected

**A/N:** I'm so excited to post this chapter. A few of you have probably figured it out by now, but get ready for some really big changes. I had a bitch of a time with parts of this chapter - I used half a notebook writing and re-writing it. So I hope that the finished product meets with your approval. The comments you've left me have been so heartening and make me want to write even more, and I so appreciate every single one of you reading this.

**Song:** "A Safe Place to Land" by John Legend & Sara Bareilles

* * *

""Loki, there's a patron who needs a few volumes on"—Rachel typed something into the computer and squinted—"baroque literature, particularly Lope de Vega, if you can find anything."

Loki wrote the subject down on a yellow pad and cocked his head. "That would be in room 315, I believe."

Rachel shook her head in disbelief. "How the hell do you remember that?"

"We all have our gifts," he said. "Where is the gentleman sitting?"

She grabbed a printout and highlighted some of the text. "Someday I'm going to get you to use the computer system."

"I am perfectly capable of learning it." He took the paper from her hand. "I simply choose not to."

"All I'm saying is, then you wouldn't have to walk around with that dumb yellow pad." She expected a smartass reply, but he just shrugged.

"Do you require anything else of me?"

"No," she said. "Let me know if you need help finding anything. He's in the reading room." He turned to leave, and something in Rachel's head snapped. "Loki?"

He spun back around. "Yes?"

"Look, I know you and I haven't always seen eye to eye, and I probably shouldn't be saying anything because technically I'm your boss, but—are you—is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine."

"Don't bullshit me. I have radar."

"Excuse me?"

"You may be the God of Lies or whatever, but I've lived in New York City all my life, so I can smell garbage a mile away. You haven't given me attitude all day. What's going on?"

Rachel and Grace had known each other since seventh grade. They met during home economics, while trying to sew drawstring backpacks. They both failed that project but had so much fun that they became best friends. Grace had been the one to get Rachel through all five thousand of her breakups and had been the one to encourage her relationship with her boyfriend, Brian.

Likewise, it was Rachel who Grace called after Scott McAndrews had brutalized her. She took Grace to the hospital for the rape kit, and to Planned Parenthood to decide whether to have an abortion. And when Amy was born, Rachel was the first person after Grace's parents to visit her. They had both seen each other at their happiest and their most devastated. So, of course, when Grace introduced Rachel to Loki, she was instantly skeptical. He seemed too good to be true, and on top of that, she had gotten the sense that he was hiding something.

As it turned out, she was right, and it was a big something. At first, she had been furious with him for breaking her best friend's heart. But she had also seen him open that heart; Grace had lost some of her idealism after the assault, and her faith in people. Loki had let Grace love again, and for whatever reason, Rachel's cynicism didn't keep her from believing in him. Which, she figured, was why she could tell that he was hiding something again.

He became painfully aware that Rachel wasn't going to let this go. And, truth be told, he didn't exactly have anyone he could really talk to about it. Thor was on Asgard and he didn't think he should or could talk to Grace's parents about it.

"If you must know," he said, "Grace has taken ill these last few days, and I am concerned about her."

"Hm. Sick how?"

"It appears to be some sort of stomach ailment. It began the evening you, Stacy, and Leah visited, and has been ongoing since."

"Has she seen a doctor?" Rachel was looking at him impassively, which unnerved him.

"Not that I am aware. Should I suggest it?"

"Oh, I don't think you'll need to. I'm sure it'll resolve itself soon, one way or another."

He hoped she was right. It was distressing to see Grace so sick, and, although he certainly didn't blame her, taking care of Amy had largely fallen to him. Between that, his work, and attempting to care for Grace—despite her protests—he was starting to struggle in balancing it all.

"Thank you for your concern," he said. "And speaking of that, I am sure the gentleman across the hall is concerned about his research." But before she could reply, he had gone, as if he had realized his own vulnerability and needed to disappear into the stacks of books to protect himself.

* * *

"Grace, you don't look so good."

"Gee, thanks, Tom. If you hadn't just made partner, I'd smack you," Grace replied with sarcasm dripping from every word. Tom Lyons had been a senior associate when she had started and, after working together on a few small cases, they had formed a fast bond. He had been promoted to partner the previous month and she had been reassigned as his secretary when her boss had retired. It was a welcome change; she had grown tired of having to print emails and retrieve coffee for a guy who insisted she call him "Mr. Kent." Tom was mostly self-sufficient and gave her as much responsibility as she was willing to accept, but no more than she could handle. They also had an informal relationship, which is why she could threaten him, and why he could comment on her appearance.

"Hey, just because I'm technically your boss now doesn't mean you can't abuse me."

"Oh, well, in that case…" she trailed off and glanced at him. "Eh, I'll owe you one. I'm too tired to stand up."

"Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm okay. Just a bit under the weather this week."

He leaned against the wall of her cubicle and folded his arms. "Too much vacation?"

"Hardly," she said. "I think maybe I caught something from one of Amy's playground friends."

He grimaced and backed up a bit. "This is why I don't have kids."

She laughed. "Oh, yeah, _that's_ why."

"Well, that, and I haven't been able to sucker a woman into dating me long enough."

"Now there's an honest answer. Anyway, I'm sure I'll be fine, and so will you, as long as I don't breathe on you."

"Even still," he said, pushing his shaggy blond hair back, "maybe you should go to the doctor, if for no other reason than not passing it onto me."

"Oh, well, thanks for your concern."

"No problem. Anyway, go home."

"It's only three o'clock!"

"You look terrible. Go home. I'm your boss, I command you."

She sighed, knowing he wasn't wrong. But she hadn't ever liked being treated like she couldn't do her job. Life had gotten easier in that respect since Loki moved in, if only because he shouldered half the parenting duties like making dinner or reading to Amy at night. She had made more career progress in the last year than she had in the four before that, and she didn't want to lose that momentum. Still, Tom wasn't the type to hold something like a stomach bug against her, and she knew she wouldn't perform at her best if she tried to push through it.

"Okay, you win," she said, gathering her things. "But I'm coming in early tomorrow."

"If you're puking, please feel free to work from home. I don't have any kitty litter to throw on it."

"Very funny."

As she walked to the elevator, she pulled out her phone to text Loki. _Hey, I'm going to be a little late, can you get Amy from my Mom when you get home?_

He replied almost immediately. _Of course. May I ask why you will be late?_

She hesitated. She and Loki knew better than most couples the importance of honesty. But she also didn't want him to worry needlessly, which he would no doubt do, even if it turned out to be nothing. _My boss asked me to stop somewhere on my way home. Personal favor._

She waited for a response before she called for the elevator, but none came. Assuming he was busy at work, she threw the phone into her bag, pressed the button, and hoped that the ride down wouldn't make her as sick as the ride up had.

* * *

Loki looked up at the door for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had arrived home. Even though Grace had told him she would be late, he couldn't imagine what personal favor her boss might have asked of her that would keep her out this late. He had already given Amy her dinner and bath, and now was contemplating eating alone. He almost never did that, unless he knew she was going to be eating elsewhere, like when she went out with her friends. Now that he had settled into the relationship they had cultivated, he preferred to share his meals with her. For someone who had spent the better part of a century as a loner by choice, it was all the more jarring for him to feel that way.

Amy sat on the living room floor, playing with a set of oversized, plastic blocks that she had received as a Hanukkah gift from Grace's parents. None the wiser to her mother's absence, she was content playing by herself, which he both understood and appreciated. She had "playdates," of course, with the children of Grace's friends and children she met on the playground. But it often occurred to him that perhaps as an only child, she had grown accustomed to inventing her own entertainment.

Sometimes, however, he wondered if Amy would grow up wishing for the sibling she could never have. By choosing to be with him, Grace had given up the chance at having more children. Occasionally, he worried she would resent him for it, no matter how many times she insisted otherwise. Grace was also an only child and while she never complained about it, she had said on a couple of occasions that she had always wished for siblings. It almost made him feel guilty for having hated Thor so much in the past.

Suddenly, he was jolted out of his deep contemplation by the sound of the door finally opening. As soon as she saw her mother, Amy pulled herself up by the coffee table and ran toward her.

Grace knelt and planted a kiss on Amy's forehead. "Hi, baby," she said. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Mommy," she replied.

"Have you had your dinner?"

Amy nodded. "Daddy made me sketti."

Grace looked up at Loki. "Did you have _your_ dinner?"

"Had you been delayed further, I was considering it, but I thought I would wait a bit longer. Are you hungry?"

She hesitated, and he thought he saw a flash of discomfort on her face. "I'm going to put Amy to bed first," she said. "Is that okay?"

"Of course. I will finish preparing it."

"Thanks," she said, picking Amy up and heading toward her room. He could hear Grace asking her what bedtime story she wanted to read. It was turning out to be a perfectly normal evening, and yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Grace had barely acknowledged him when she came home; usually she greeted him with at least a modicum of affection. Then again, he supposed she was also probably more tired than usual. Perhaps after putting Amy to bed and winding down a bit, she would be more herself. He poured two glasses of wine in anticipation of dinner and went about the business of preparing the meal. After a while, she reappeared, having changed into a pair of grey, wide-legged lounge pants and a sweater that drowned her in fabric.

While he poured sauce over the spaghetti in the pot, he asked, "What story did you read her tonight?"

"Oh, she just wanted to re-read the first Harry Potter book, for the millionth time. I think it's her favorite."

"That was the first book I ever read to her."

"Maybe that's _why_ it's her favorite."

"Perhaps she enjoys hearing about magic."

"Well, after our trip, I know she enjoys seeing it."

There was a brief silence between them, and then he passed one of the wine glasses to her. To his great surprise, she pushed it back across the counter. "I have never known you to turn down wine," he said, dividing the spaghetti between two plates. "Are you feeling unwell again?"

She took a deep breath. "It's funny you should ask. Loki…"

He usually found immense joy in hearing his name from her lips. For so many months, he had heard nothing but the name he was forced to assume during his exile, and it still pained him that the first time she said she loved him, she had used that name. But her tone now was deeply concerning to him. It sounded hesitant, almost fearful.

"Grace," he said cautiously, "if you are unwell, I do hope you know that I will gladly take care of you."

She shifted from one leg to another. "No, I know. It's not that."

"Perhaps you should see a doctor."

She realized there was no way to say any of what she had to say delicately. "Well, actually, that's where I was today."

"I am confused," he replied. "I thought you said—"

"I know what I said. Tom told me to go. He thought I might have the flu, you know, because I've been throwing up so much."

"Then why did you not tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry, especially because I figured it was nothing." Her eyes were overcast, steely grey. "I knew if you knew I was going to a doctor you would spend all evening worrying."

"I was worried nonetheless due to your extended absence."

She could sense annoyance in his voice, which momentarily threw her off balance. But she also realized he wasn't wrong. "Loki, please, can we just take a minute?" She put her hands over her face, rubbing her eyes. Suddenly, she felt a gentle, almost imperceptible hand on her shoulder.

"I'm only trying to understand," he said, quieter this time. "What did the doctor say, then?"

The weight of what she was feeling was almost unbearable and she desperately wanted to share it with him. But it was as though her mouth would not go where her mind wanted it to. The uncertainty of the future was too terrifying. And then she looked up into his eyes, green and bright, brow furrowed with concern. Those eyes were the same ones that had gotten her through one of the worst experiences of her life. They were the eyes she had fallen in love with, the eyes of her child's father.

_Correction_, she thought, _children's father._

"What did you say?"

She stared at him and felt her heart in his hands. Had she said it and just didn't realize it, or had she imagined saying something she didn't say, or had he not heard her? Her head was swimming. There was no other way, though. That much, she knew.

"Loki, I'm pregnant."

Loki was gifted with a great many talents, chief among them being the ability to remain totally impassive even under the most trying of circumstances. It was how he had survived. He didn't like allowing others to read his emotions so easily; it was much more useful to conceal them until he knew what his plans were. At the moment, he had hoped to capitalize on that gift, hide his reaction until he could sort through his feelings. But based on Grace's expression, he was not at all successful.

"This—this isn't possible," he said.

Grace wrapped her arms around herself, in a self-hug. "That's what I thought too, but it seems we were wrong."

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "No, it is _not _possible. It cannot happen."

"Well, clearly it _is_ possible, because it _did_ happen," she said. "And how can you be so sure it isn't possible, anyway?"

His voice raised in shock. "We took precautions, Grace! Unless you neglected to take the medication—"

Her eyes narrowed. "I didn't neglect _anything_, Loki. Sometimes, it just doesn't work."

"The odds of that—"

"Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, human birth control is no match for alien sperm?"

His expression darkened. "You know how much I detest when you call me that," he snapped.

"And I'm not thrilled with being accused of neglecting my responsibility, but here we are," she spat.

He crossed the room, pacing in front of the door. He looked, to Grace, like he was having some sort of mental episode. His eyes were wild, and his fists were clenched. "Grace, you do not understand. This simply is not possible."

She couldn't help it—she rolled her eyes. "Just because you keep saying that doesn't make it true."

He took a deep breath, trying to regain composure, and to keep his voice down to avoid waking Amy. "All right," he said. "All right, is there any possibility that the doctor misdiagnosed you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You think it's more likely that I've been throwing up nonstop for two weeks because I have a bad case of food poisoning? They did a damn test, Loki."

"Tests can be incorrect."

"Why are you so opposed to the idea that I'm carrying your child?"

"Grace, darling—"

"Now is _not_ the right time for you to call me darling," she said. There was a distinct sharpness to her voice that he had only heard on one other occasion: the first time they had ever fought, and she had walked out of the apartment.

"I am simply trying to explain to you that there has never been any recorded instance of an Asgardian and a mortal procreating!"

She put her hands on her hips. "Well, that might be relevant, if you were Asgardian."

His eyes flared, and for a moment, he felt the first flash of true anger he'd ever felt toward her. "Thank you so much. You know I so love being reminded that I have the blood of those monsters in my veins." His voice was as icy as his skin could be. "And now—now there will be another of us!"

Her mouth dropped open. "Did—did you just say—"

She expected him to immediately regret it and apologize. But his eyes remained cold, face contorted in anger. She felt tears welling but she didn't want to cry in front of him. Even more than that, she did not want the argument to escalate and wake Amy up. So instead, she just shook her head in disgust, walked to the bedroom, and locked the door behind her.

* * *

He found himself in Central Park, without really remembering how he got there. It certainly wasn't at all convenient to the apartment. In fact, he realized he had somehow taken an entire forty-five-minute journey with very little memory of it. In fact, outside of knowing he was in the park, he didn't know exactly where he was. There was a bridge he thought he recognized, but half the bridges in the bloody place looked alike. It didn't much matter, though. He wasn't heading in any particular direction anyway.

It was after ten at night by that point, and the park was nearly deserted. All the better, he supposed, as he was seeking solitude. The evening had gone as poorly as it possibly could have. He and Grace had had disagreements in the past, of course, but nothing like this. Not since he had returned to live with her, anyway. She had locked him out of their bedroom, and he hadn't even tried to go in after her. The worst part, though, was that he had no idea how to proceed. This was something he had never expected, and so he had no plan to deal with it. The only thing he knew for certain was that she could not be pregnant with his child.

Suddenly, a great blast of multicolored lights shot down from the sky onto the grass before him. The force nearly blew him backward and as he steadied himself, he saw a tall, blond figure standing where the light had been, clutching an umbrella in one hand.

"Loki," Thor said, "we must talk."

"Do you ever announce your visits in advance, or must they always be a great, loud surprise?"

"What's wrong? God of Mischief can't take a little chaos?"

"What are you doing here, brother? Surely the Allfather didn't send you."

"No, I came of my own accord. Can't one brother visit another simply to see how he fares?"

"You didn't think I'd actually fall for that, did you?" Loki scoffed, as Thor took a seat on a nearby bench. "In addition to the God of Mischief, I am also the God of Lies."

"How could I forget? How many times did I fall for those lies?"

Loki leaned against a tree across from the bench. "All the more fun it was for me," he said. "Why are you here? The truth this time."

Thor set his umbrella down beside the bench and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Even in the darkness, Loki could see the piercing blue of his brother's eyes. "Why don't you tell me?" Thor asked.

"I have no need of your assistance. I can handle my own affairs."

"Oh, yes, you're right," Thor said, a slight mocking tone to his voice. "Out wandering through the park in the middle of the night, muttering to yourself, looking like a madman—"

"I beg your pardon! I was not muttering—"

"That certainly explains why I heard you saying something about all the bloody bridges looking alike."

Loki was momentarily stunned. Had he really been talking to himself? He felt like he was going mad. "Even if what you say is true, it certainly does not mean I require help, least of all from you," he huffed.

"Why such anger toward me, Loki? Have I done something to incur your wrath since we last spoke?"

Loki sighed, heavy as an anvil on his chest. He rubbed his forehead, feeling the blood pulse through a very pronounced vein. "No," he finally said. "Not that I am admitting I require your help, but it is not you with whom I have a quarrel."

"Then who? Did something happen with father before you left?"

"No," Loki said again. "Oddly, we parted on better terms than ever in the past."

"Certainly not Mother?" Thor replied, more a statement than a question.

"Of course not."

Thor leaned back. "Well, Loki, we could be here all night playing guessing games, or you could simply tell me."

"I am surprised Heimdall did not tell you himself," Loki replied bitterly, spitting his words. "That is, of course, how you knew to come. You and that third-rate spy—"

Thor immediately sprang to his feet. "Listen here, brother—"

"Sitting up there watching my life play out as entertainment—"

"Heimdall does not spy and you damn well know—"

"We are not fodder for Asgardian gossip—"

"Don't you understand that he is simply watching for—"

"Grace is with child."

Their argument fell to the ground with a resounding thud. Thor looked as though Loki had just said that he himself was pregnant. To be perfectly honest, Thor believed that to be a more likely prospect. "Loki, are you—"

"Certain?" Loki finished. "She seems to be."

"How?"

Loki sank down onto the grass, wet from the evening dew. Thor sat down next to him. It was almost as if they were children again; what he wouldn't have given for the chance to conjure a snake to bite Thor. "She went to the doctor, apparently. It would seem our precautions did not work."

"Well, it's not as though there is some sort of guidebook on this," Thor replied. "Midgardian protections against conception are likely ineffective against—"

Loki laughed quietly. "Alien sperm."

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing."

"Loki, forgive my ignorance—"

"I always do."

"But," Thor continued, breezing by the halfhearted insult, "why are we out here?"

"What do you mean?"

Thor looked around. "Why are we in this park in the middle of the night and not at your home?"

Loki shifted uncomfortably. "Well, for starters, because Amy is asleep."

"And second?"

There was a pause. "And second, because Grace has locked me out of our bedroom." Thor tried to suppress a smile, but Loki caught it just the same. "Oh,_ do_ shut up."

"I'm sorry!" Thor replied, patting Loki on his shoulder. "I truly am."

Loki sprang to his feet. "I should have known better than to think you would understand. You and your perfect relationship." He stalked away, infuriated.

"Perfect relationship?" Thor called after him, running to catch up. "Loki, for heaven's sake, stop!"

"Why? So that you may continue to mock me?"

"No one is mocking you! And if anyone has a perfect relationship, it's you, not me!"

Loki rounded on him. "Did you not hear me when I told you that she has locked me out of our bedroom?"

Thor took his brother gently by the shoulder to calm him. "I did. But Loki, do you not see that you and Grace share a life that I long for?"

Loki was aghast. "Beg your pardon?"

Thor, taking advantage of Loki's momentary bewilderment, put his arm around his brother and urged him to walk onward. "You said once that you remember living in the shade—what was it you said?"

"Living in the shade of your greatness."

Thor smiled. "You always did know how to turn a phrase. At any rate, I know that it has not always been easy for you to have me as your older brother. Perhaps, however, it would help you to know that I now envy you."

"I thought you said no one was mocking me."

"Has it ever occurred to you that for as long as Jane and I have been together, she still lives on Midgard and I on Asgard?" Thor asked, but his brother did not reply. "Jane loves me, and I her, very much. But you and Grace have something together that is priceless and of which I am quite envious."

Loki sighed, rolling his eyes. "Let me guess: a family."

"You say that as though you are disgusted by it."

Suddenly, Loki stopped in his tracks and pulled away from Thor. "I am!" he yelled. "I am disgusted by it!"

Thor was slightly stunned. "You cannot possibly mean that," he said, as calmly as possible. "I have seen you fall in love with Grace, with her child—_your_ child! You mean to tell me now that you have been lying all this time? Do you still long for a throne?"

Loki's words caught in the base of his throat. "It isn't—it is not about a throne. It is not about Grace. It is not about Midgard or Amy or my ability to lie."

"Then what, brother?"

Loki rubbed his eyes, which were burning with exhaustion and fear. And then he admitted something, so quietly that Thor could barely understand him. "I am disgusted with myself."

"But Loki, you have what you wanted, what you fought so hard for. You—"

"And now I have ruined it!" His tone was both angry and desperately sad. "I have destroyed it."

"How?"

Loki meandered over to a patch of catmint, lavender blue and only just beginning to bloom. He stood looking at it in silence for a long while, trying to decide if there were words to express the twisting thoughts in his head.

"I have ruined _her_._"_

"What?"

"When we quarreled," he said, "I told her that there has never been any record of a mortal and an Asgardian successfully procreating, and she reminded me that I am not—"

"Asgardian," Thor finished. "Are you concerned for her safety during this pregnancy?"

"It is not simply that, although the probable physical danger she will risk by carrying this child has not escaped me."

"What more is there?"

Loki hated this conversation more with each passing second. "No matter how close you and I have become, no matter how many ceremonies over which I preside, no matter whether I am considered Prince of Asgard, my name will always be Loki Laufeyson, and I will always be of Jotunheim. A Frost Giant."

Thor was beginning to understand where this might be headed. "You are more than your parentage, and you know that."

"My father was a monster and we _both_ know _that_. What right have I to bring a child with my lineage into the world? And to force Grace to carry it?"

Being with Grace and becoming a father to Amy had changed Loki a great deal, but Thor knew that none of this had been easy for his brother to admit. He had spent many years fighting the monster he felt he was, and the progress he had made still didn't seem to be enough for this life event. Thor tried to grasp at some words, any words, to comfort or reassure. "You are no monster, Loki."

"Brother, this child is half Grace, but it is also half of me. And what happens if the half that is me destroys everything?"

Suddenly, Thor had an idea. "If that is truly what concerns you, brother, then I would urge you to look to your daughter."

"I'm sorry?"

Thor spoke softly and carefully, as if he were approaching a wild animal. "Amy is half Grace, as you say. But she also gets half her genes from a monster, a _true_ monster. Do you believe, then, that she will turn out like the monster that contributed to her making?" He didn't even wait for a reply. "She was created in part by evil, but has turned out to be a loving, intelligent, and, may I say, mischievous little girl, in no small part because of who has helped raise her."

Loki had never held as much affection for his brother as he did in that moment. It may have been, in fact, the first time he felt as though Thor considered him a true equal, worthy of concern and love.

"I have never seen her quite so angry with me," he said after a moment.

"Not even when you revealed yourself?"

"At least then she laid into me. This time, she merely left the room. That's only happened once before."

Thor winced. "That is never a good sign, to be sure. How long do you suppose she will stay angry with you?"

"Probably at least until she speaks with her mother," Loki sighed. "Thankfully, Vivian seems to take pity on me a great majority of the time."

Thor tossed his umbrella from one hand to another. "Well, in the meantime, would you like a ride back to Brooklyn?"

"While I do so love the idea of being launched into the air like a ball in some sort of sporting event, I feel I shall be better off taking a less conspicuous mode of transportation."

Thor laughed. "I understand. I should return home anyway. Jane is still visiting, and I do not wish to find myself locked out of my own bedchambers."

As Thor prepared to ask Heimdall to open the Bifrost again, Loki put a hand up. "Thor—"

"Oh, yes," Thor said, a half-grin on his face. "I almost forgot. Congratulations." Suddenly, his brother vanished from sight in the same powerful, colorful blast from which he came. And to his amazement, Loki was not only thankful for Thor's counsel and solace, but for not expecting him to say just how thankful he was.

* * *

When he opened the apartment door, Loki was unsurprised to be greeted only by darkness and silence. It was past midnight by then, and since Grace had gone into the bedroom much earlier in the evening than usual, he assumed she had been asleep since he left. He crept in and shut the door as quietly as possible and knelt to untie his shoes. Just then, a light came on, and when his eyes adjusted, he was shocked to see her sitting on the couch, looking as though she hadn't slept at all. Her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head and the impression of one of the textured throw pillows was etched on her cheek. He normally would have found her absolutely adorable this way, but her eyes were red, sad, and tired.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello. Why are you—"

"I tried to sleep in the bedroom, but as it turns out, sleeping without you is still hard, even when I'm angry with you."

He finished taking his shoes off and stood, unsure of where he should go. He suddenly felt like a stranger in his own apartment. But Grace, mercifully, shifted on the sofa and jerked her head slightly, a peace offering of sorts.

He sat down next to her and folded his hands in his lap. "Did you fare any better out here?"

She smiled slightly but didn't look at him. "Kind of hard to sleep _anywhere_ without you. And I guess I was just thinking."

"Well," he said, "that would make two of us."

"Oh yeah? What were you thinking about?"

"I would rather you share your thoughts first."

She cleared her throat. "Well, I guess I was mostly thinking about the night Amy was born. Not the birth itself, but that night, after she was in the hospital nursery. I remember being in the hospital bed, and I remember being exhausted. I was so damn tired, but I couldn't sleep. Kind of like tonight, I guess."

"Why were you unable to sleep then? Surely your body was begging for rest."

"It was. Believe me, I was so physically and emotionally exhausted that I was almost in tears. But it's just—the room was so quiet."

"Is that not the optimal situation for rest?"

"You'd think. But try to imagine something." She turned and looked at him. "That whole day had been so noisy and busy and loud and overwhelming. My mom was in the delivery room, there were people in and out all day, I had this new little person to love, and people wanting to meet her. And then, suddenly, everything just stopped. It got quiet. And that was when I realized just how alone I was."

His heart was pounding against his ribs. He stared at her, pupils dilated, not knowing what to do or say. "Grace…"

"After you have a baby, you're supposed to have someone there. Unless you've decided to do it alone, you're supposed to have someone there."

"Your mother—"

"No," she said. "What I mean is, there's usually a partner. The baby's other parent. And for me, there wasn't."

She looked like she might cry, and he didn't know what he would do if she did. His natural impulse would be to comfort her, but he wasn't sure she would welcome it. "Why are you telling me this now, after all this time?"

"Because I want you to understand why I'm so upset with you, Loki."

"I know why—"

"No, you don't," she said, holding a hand up. "I'd adjusted to the idea that we would never have a child. I was okay with that. I really was. I'm not just saying that. You, me, and Amy, that was more than enough for me. But then this—I never expected this pregnancy, Loki. And I was scared, just like I was scared last time. But this time, I was also really happy. And do you want to know why?"

"Of course," he replied softly.

"It's not just because I'm pregnant again. I mean, if I had no idea what to expect last time, I _really_ don't know what to expect now, and that's terrifying. But it's _our_ baby, Loki. That's why I'm so happy. Because I get to have this baby that _we_ made, and this time, I thought I wouldn't have to feel alone."

She had started crying by then, and he could feel shame rising like bile in his throat. He wanted to help her understand why he had reacted as he had, help her feel better, help heal both their pain. So, he took a chance and reached for her hand, praying she wouldn't recoil. She didn't. He lifted her chin with his free hand.

"You won't be alone, my love. I promised you long ago, and I promise you now, I have no plans to leave your side."

She nodded, tears still streaming down her cheeks. At least for now she felt like their fight was resolved, if not the issue underlying it. "Let's go to bed. We can talk more in the morning."

She started to get up, but he held onto her hand, gently pulling her back down. "If it's all the same to you, I cannot lay with you in our bed until I explain my reaction this evening."

"Loki, you don't have to. It's late."

"Please."

He looked so desperate that she didn't have the heart to argue with him. "Okay."

He took a deep breath. "When I was out, I went to Central Park. I wanted to walk somewhere that was familiar to me."

She half-grinned. "And around the block just wouldn't suffice?"

"I think perhaps in the back of my mind, I wanted to go to the place that reminded me most of what my life was like before we met. I was angry, and it is easier to be angry when you are reminded of your darkest memories."

"Did it help?"

He shook his head. "I did not really have the opportunity to wallow. Unsurprisingly, my plans were thwarted."

"By?"

His lips curled into a sheepish smile. "My brother, naturally. I sometimes believe he still does not entirely trust me."

"Can't imagine why," she said. "What did he want?"

"More or less to ask why I was out wandering the park like a lunatic, talking to myself. It was quite an interesting discussion we had." He was squeezing her hand so hard by that point that she was grateful that her ring was almost unbreakable. "For whatever it is worth, my brother agrees with you."

"About what?"

"He, too, believes that Midgardian protection likely could not prevent this."

"I always knew your brother was smarter than you said he was."

"That he is." For once, the words didn't taste bitter. "To get to the heart of the matter, Grace, it is not you with whom I was angry. It was me." He expected her to reply, but she didn't. "When I gave you this ring, and asked for your hand, I told you that I once believed my destiny to be a monster and that I no longer believed that. But, as my mother once said to me, I tend to be perceptive about everyone but myself."

"Loki, are you telling me that you still see yourself as a monster?"

She put a hand to his cheek. He drew it away and kissed it. "It is easy to convince yourself you no longer fear something until you are confronted by that very thing."

"I don't understand."

"I, too, believed and accepted that Amy was to be the only child I would have. And make no mistake, she would be more than enough. I love her more dearly than you can imagine. Even though, and perhaps even because, she does not carry my blood." He was beginning to lose his composure. "But the idea that I might sire a child who _does_ carry that blood…"

Her eyes had softened by then, and her heart with them. "Why would that matter? I mean, aside from the obvious physical unknowns that this pregnancy carries?"

It was his turn to cry, and an entire evening's worth of tears poured out of him. "My father was a murderer. I—I was a murderer. My greatest fear is that I will ruin what we have by creating a child that is half of what I am."

"What do I have to do to convince you that you aren't what you were?" she asked, almost pleading with him. "You're a lot of things. You are my partner. You are Amy's father. You are an enormous pain in the ass. But you aren't a monster."

"I have been told as much before. The pain in the ass part, I mean," he replied through his tears. "But Thor reminded me that who we are is who we choose to be, not what our lineage says we should be. Amy is proof of that."

She smiled. "Yes, she is. And this new baby will be as wonderful as you, because it will be raised, in part, by you. There's no way it could be anything else."

He hesitated. He had one other nagging fear, and he didn't know how to say it. "Will you still love me if it—"

She knew what he wanted to ask, and wanted to assure him that regardless of whether their baby's eyes were blue, green, or the blood red of a Frost Giant, she would love it just the same.

"If it keeps me up all night?" she asked.

His tears turned to a great smile, spreading across his face and through his entire body. Without realizing what he was doing, he reached a handout and placed it on her stomach. She covered it with her own, and he kissed her.

"Shall we go to sleep?" he asked. "As you said, soon enough, this child will be keeping us both up all night."


	5. Safe

**A/N:** This may be my last chapter until March, because I will be studying for the bar exam, so I tried to make it a good, long one.

I gave you guys a little bit of sexy because, well, I was feeling some kind of way. And I really enjoyed making Odin not so much of a jackass; of course, he wouldn't be Odin if he didn't have "a purpose to everything he does." Finally, Loki grew so much during the first story, but this pregnancy has really thrown him for a loop. It will give both him and Grace new closeness, but also new conflict. It's my hope that you will all feel what they're feeling and take this journey with them.

Special thanks to Julia B. for help naming the science-y things I created (obviously the Soul Forge came from TDW, of which we do not speak), and to Jeff M. for his help with math and with putting into words the ideas I had in my head but couldn't spell out quite right.

If you do like what I've done here, please leave comments. I just like knowing people are reading this!

**Song: **"Better Than I Used To Be" by Tim McGraw

* * *

"Grace, we must go," Loki pleaded.

"Loki, we can't. Or at least, I can't," she replied. "I already took a weeklong vacation a month ago. I can't ask for more time."

He sighed. It had been two weeks since Grace had told him she was pregnant, and yet she wanted to go on as though life had not changed. She was starting to be more like her normal, strong-willed self, but she still had nearly debilitating sickness that deeply concerned him. He understood she had been to a doctor, but the symptoms seemed to be getting worse.

"I know you feel it is unnecessary, but I have a dreadful feeling about this. Can you not simply explain to Tom that you are with child?"

She grabbed a box of cereal and tossed it into the cart. "I could, but that starts a whole _thing_ and I'm not ready for the _thing_ yet. It's going to be difficult enough to try to make ends meet on just your salary when I take time after the baby's born. I don't want to take any more vacation now than I need to."

He threw a canister of oatmeal into the cart and checked it off the list. "But you _do_ need to take this time. Why is it so difficult for you to understand that?"

She shot him a withering look. "You want to try that again, without the attitude?"

"I apologize for the tone, but not the sentiment," he replied. "It is not solely because of my concern for you. I am also concerned about the child."

She turned the corner, heading into the ice cream aisle. She was already having cravings, or at least that was what she told herself to justify eating entire pints of Chubby Hubby. "I know you're concerned, but I feel fine, other than throwing up three times a day. I've been through this before."

"Not with a half-god," he shot back. Then, he grabbed hold of the cart and stepped in front of it, blocking her way. "There is no precedent for this, Grace. I've told you that."

She hated when he made good points. How could she really be sure that the baby was okay? Her pregnancy with Amy was fairly easy, not counting the labor. But she had to admit, she had no idea what she should expect with this one. Just because it was normal now didn't mean it would continue to be normal, and wouldn't it be better to be prepared?

"Okay," she finally conceded. "You're right. Let me talk to Tom. Maybe I can fake a family emergency."

"Well, it wouldn't exactly be a lie." He was satisfied with her acquiescence for now. "But please, promise me that you won't delay"

"I promise. Just promise _me_ that if they say I'm fine, we can get ready for this baby like a normal couple."

"I would like nothing more."

* * *

Tom, of course, had no issue with giving Grace the time off. She hardly ever took vacation time, and he also knew from experience that life had a hilarious way of being inconvenient and unexpected. _If only he knew, _she thought, as Loki folded shirts and put them into his suitcase. They had agreed to go over a weekend, with Grace's parents taking Amy on the presumption that there was an emergency in Loki's family. Thankfully, they didn't ask what it was.

"Do you think the Asgardian doctors will know anything?" she asked.

He tossed a pair of boxers toward the suitcase and missed entirely. Grace put them where they belonged. "I suspect that if anyone will know how this pregnancy will play out, an Asgardian would know more than any human physician," he said. "At the very least, they will be more equipped to deal with it."

"I don't really like the idea that this pregnancy is just something to deal with."

"You know that is not what I meant. I simply mean to say that—"

She placed a hand on his arm. "I know. I know, I'm just—now you have me worried."

Loki furrowed his brow. "I am sorry. I did not intend that. I realize I am probably being overly cautious, but—"

"You're worried and being careful. I appreciate that. I just don't want to hear any bad news."

At that, he stopped packing and took both her hands in his. He wanted his next words to carry as much weight as possible. "Grace, regardless of what any doctor says, Midgardian or otherwise, I will be here to bear the joys and sorrows with you. You shall always have me."

She sat on the bed and pulled him down with her. "I know that. But I want you _and_ this child. And speaking of that, we need to have a conversation that I don't want to have."

Concern lined his face and flooded his voice. "What is it?"

"I want this pregnancy to work," she said, her voice cracking. "But if we get to Asgard and they say that it's not possible—I mean, if they say that I won't survive…"

He didn't say anything at first, because he didn't want to say the wrong thing. He knew the choice he would prefer, but he also knew that as the person whose body and life would be at issue, she should be the one to make the ultimate decision.

"Grace, I am sure it will not come to that. I am sure that the healers on Asgard—"

She held up a hand. "Loki, we _don't_ know that. You've said it yourself, there's no precedent for this. And as much as I want to have this baby, as much as it would mean to me to create a life that's from both of us, I can't—I can't leave Amy, or you."

He tried to hide the relief he felt. "I would support whatever action you chose," he said, "but I would be lying if I said that I am not relieved for your decision. I would rather lose the life inside of you than lose you—for my sake as well as for Amy's."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. It would be selfish to force her to grow up without a mother. I hope it doesn't come to that, but if it does, I don't want to have to make that choice in a panic."

He kissed her, lightly, reassuring her. "I love you, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that you _and_ this child remain in this world." Then, he glanced down at her suitcase. "Do you ever pack lightly?"

She laughed, glad for the tension to break. "How long have you lived with me?"

"I will never live with you long enough to understand why you require no less than a dozen socks for a three-day excursion."

She shrugged. "Ever hear the expression, 'hope for the best, prepare for the worst?'"

"What, exactly, do you imagine going wrong that would require this many socks?"

"We're going to another planet to make sure I can carry a half demigod to term," she said. "I have no idea what to imagine."

He shook his head in resignation and zipped the bags closed. "Now that you are fully stocked on foot coverings, are you ready, darling?"

"Okay. I think I'm good. Do we have to leave at a certain time or is—"

"We need only call Heimdall, although I highly recommend that we do so from outdoors," he said. "The Bifrost, as you know, tends to make a bit of a mess." He was right. The last two journeys had left Asgard's emblem burned into the grass in the park.

"I'm ready when you are."

They dragged their luggage to the courtyard and Loki looked to the sky. "Hold onto me, and your bag."

"Loki?"

He glanced down at her. "Yes?"

"Do you realize that this is the first time we've done this together?"

He hadn't realized that until she said it. "Ironic, isn't it, that you have traveled to Asgard for me twice, each time with everyone except me?"

She smiled. "And now, I'm traveling with you _and_ half of you."

He looped his arm around her waist and clutched her to his heart. "Heimdall, bring us to Asgard." Grace looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Begrudgingly, he added, "Please."

* * *

No matter how many times she traveled via the Bifrost, she never quite got over the novelty, nor could she manage to walk from it as easily as anyone else. While Loki had the ability to strut right out of it, she always seemed to stumble, like she was slightly drunk. Her bag went flying, but Loki, with his quick reflexes, caught it midair.

"Good evening, Highness," Heimdall said. "And to you, Lady Grace."

"Surprised to see us back so soon?" she asked.

A slow, almost imperceptible smile crossed his face. "Not in the least."

It was then that Grace remembered that the gatekeeper, with his stunning amber eyes, could see and hear anything he wished in the universe. The thought of that was slightly unnerving, really, so she attempted to put it out of her mind most of the time. She suspected, however, that he knew exactly why they had returned so soon.

"Have mother and father been informed of our arrival?" Loki asked.

She was about to ask how that would even be possible when Heimdall responded, "Indeed. But they believe Lady Grace should rest before any conversation is to be had." With a nod, Loki picked up their bags and Grace followed him onto the bridge.

"I am not looking forward to this walk," she said, staring at the palace in the distance. At least this time she wasn't carrying a sleeping toddler, but the journey was no less daunting. In her condition, she tired far more easily.

"I will deny ever saying this, but it is at times like this that being Thor would be useful."

She laughed. "Better hope Heimdall didn't hear that, or I suspect the entire kingdom would hear about it." Just then, she realized their suitcases were gone. "Loki, where—"

He waved his hand across his body and suddenly, the luggage reappeared in front of them, only to disappear just as quickly when he reversed the motion. "Being me can also be quite useful. How do you think I concealed the ring from you for two months?"

Her mouth dropped open. "How did I not know you could do that?"

He smiled mischievously. "I have many powers you have not yet seen."

She slid her hand into his as they walked, and he could feel the thin metal band on her finger against his palm. "Well, I guess it's a good thing you've got the rest of my life to show them to me."

Their arrival at the palace was just as quiet as it had been the last time, for which Grace, exhausted, was terribly grateful. "Are we going to have separate rooms again?"

"The only reason for that was because my chamber has no nursery," he replied. "There is no need this time. Asgardians do not have the same moral qualms that humans seem to regarding cohabitation before marriage."

"Good. I don't know if I could be in that huge room all alone."

As they walked, Grace noticed that Loki was not in his Asgardian clothing. He still wore a pair of dark jeans and eggplant-hued button-down. She wondered whether it was intentional, or if his mind was so occupied with other things that he had simply forgotten to change. Did he have a store of Asgardian apparel here? She hadn't noticed a closet in his room last time. And she hadn't worn anything but her own clothing when they were here together, other than the dress he had sent her for the banquet. Did people judge her silently for that? Did they think she was too different, not worthy of the Prince of Asgard? What would the kingdom, and—more importantly—his parents, think about her bearing the newest royal baby?

These were the thoughts swirling in her mind as they entered his chambers, which had been prepared for their arrival. The fire was crackling, glasses and a pitcher of water on one of the bedside tables, sheets turned down. She wondered if Dagmar had done this, or if she was even a servant anymore.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"I am," she replied. "Seems to be the natural state of things lately." When he looked stricken, she smiled. "That's a thing that happens to women with fully human pregnancies."

His face relaxed a bit and he manifested their bags again. From one of them, he pulled a case of toiletries and handed it to her. "If you would like to refresh yourself, I will handle all of this."

Gratefully, she headed for the bathroom. She splashed some cold water on her face and looked in the mirror for a long while, studying herself. The water dripped from her chin as if she had been crying steadily for hours. She looked as exhausted as she felt. Although she had tried to soothe Loki's fears, this was definitely a different level of tired from her last pregnancy.

_Hopefully, _she thought, _this is temporary. Very temporary._

She dried her face and brushed her teeth, then came back to the bedchamber, finding him in bed already with a book. "You look comfortable," she said.

He looked up and half-smiled. "It no longer feels quite like home." He flipped the sheets up on her side of the bed as an invitation. "But it will suffice."

She glanced at the slowly dying fire next to her. That was when she noticed the wardrobe. "Was that there before?"

"It was," he said, "although you had no reason to take notice, I suppose. Your nightclothes are on a hook inside the door."

She turned to him again. He was not wearing a shirt, which was normal for him when they went to bed. For some reason, however, her breath caught in her chest. The lean muscles in his arms flexed just slightly as he set his book aside, the veins in his hands suddenly more pronounced. His dark hair fell into his face, but he made no movement to push it back, as if he had gotten so used to it that it was simply natural that it was there. He looked so effortless. So normal.

So human.

She suddenly, inexplicably, needed him. Desperately.

Instead of opening the wardrobe, she walked slowly toward the bed, discarding her sandals and shirt along the way. "Grace?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I remember you saying you were tired."

She bent at the waist to push her jeans down the length of her legs, stepping carefully out of them. "Not anymore."

He watched her, mesmerized by her fluid movements, almost as if she were playing a melody with her body. Usually when they made love, he would undress her, take his time enjoying the seduction. But tonight, it seemed she was determined to seduce him on her own. And, judging by the blood rushing to his groin, it was working.

She climbed into the bed and crawled over to him, immediately pressing her half-naked body into his, kissing him so deeply that it took him by surprise. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, unhooking her bra in one motion with the other. His lips crushed against hers, as he cupped her breasts in his hands. Her hand, meanwhile, made its way to the waistband of his pajama pants. He magicked them away; he did not—could not—tear himself away from her.

Suddenly, he flipped her onto her back and climbed over her, long fingers wrapped in her hair. He gently turned her head to the side, allowing him to graze her neck with his teeth. She shuddered, drawing her nails down his back, trying to close every inch of space between them. The way he tasted, smelled, felt, it was as if it was their first time all over again. She wrapped her legs around his so that they were as intertwined as could be, their bodies touching in every place possible. She could feel how hard he was and knew how much he must have wanted release, but she didn't want this to end. Her body was so alive. Every nerve, every muscle, every neuron in her brain was on fire. His breath was somehow both hot and cold as his kissed the hollow of her clavicle.

He wanted to move lower, to kiss and lick and suck his way down her body, to bring her pleasure that would take her to the ends of the cosmos. But something about their bodies tangled together kept him exactly where he was. He was so absorbed in the way her skin felt against his that he didn't even realize how hard he was. He no longer cared about his basest desires. He craved only what they were sharing in that moment. The physical intimacy of exploring her, kissing her, merely touching her, was the least important part of how he was feeling.

In their most frenzied sexual encounters, she would invariably call out his name in ecstasy. In return, as he found his release, he would proclaim over and over: _You are mine. You are mine! _Yet in all the times he had been inside her, he could not recall them being this connected to each other—so intimate that it was as if their souls were making love.

She pulled him back to kiss him again, biting his bottom lip, marking him. Her eyes were full of hunger and longing and the brilliance of a crisp, blue autumn sky. Her cheeks flushed a breathless pink as her hair splayed on the pillow, damp with the heat of their passion. He ran his hands up her sides until they joined hers, fingers laced as tightly as their bodies. Without warning, she writhed underneath him in a way that nearly made him cry out for her and craned her neck up so that their foreheads touched, lips only millimeters apart.

"You are mine," she whispered.

And then he couldn't think, couldn't stop even if he'd wanted to. This was the most explosive, erotic experience in all his years, and he had no control left in him. He had lost himself to her, but it was the sweetest surrender of his life. Breathlessly, he said words he never thought he would want, much less _need_ to say; against her neck, into her ear, and finally while looking directly into her eyes, he repeated them like a prayer.

"I am yours. Yours. _Only_ yours."

* * *

Grace awoke the next morning to the light streaming through the balcony doors. They had both fallen asleep easily the night before, too exhausted to shut the heavy drapes. _Just as well, _she thought, as she knew they had a long day ahead of them. Besides, waking up to Asgard's light was much more pleasant than an alarm clock. She rolled onto her side and saw Loki's eyes just beginning to open.

"Good morning, darling," he said sleepily. "Did you sleep well?"

She smiled and rolled her eyes. "I think you're just fishing for compliments. Last night was—"

"Quite different," he finished. "I do not believe I have ever seen you so…" He couldn't even finish the sentence. There were no words to describe what had transpired the previous night.

She sat up on the edge of the bed and grabbed her crystal necklace from the nightstand. Then, she reached skyward in a deep stretch. He watched her back lengthen, the delicate muscles moving under her perfect, pale skin. "Will there ever be a day when you do not become more beautiful than the last?" he asked.

She laughed and started to put the necklace back on. "Just wait until I'm nine months pregnant, my ankles are the size of flotation devices, and I can't walk without waddling. I'll look like a penguin."

He crawled over to her, kissed her neck, and secured the clasp. "Then you shall be the most beautiful penguin in all the galaxy." He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned her head back on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, taking in the moment like he would never get another.

Just then, he noticed something change on her body, where his hands lay. "Grace, I do not mean to alarm you, and it may be my famously overactive imagination, but is—is your abdomen—"

Before he could even finish, she put her hands over his. "Cold?"

"Well, yes," he said. "How long has it been that way?"

"It seems to happen in the mornings, mostly. Like it's waking up or something."

He got out of bed, magicked his pants back on, and came around to face her. "I should have been clearer. What I meant was, how many days has this been going on?"

"Maybe three. I figured—well—given that you're…" She stumbled over her words.

"You assumed that a Frost Giant's offspring might be colder than the average fetus," he finished. She nodded. "Grace, I am not upset in the least. I am fully aware of my parentage. It is no longer hurtful to me if you bring it up. But you should have told me."

She, too, got out of bed. "I know, I know. No precedent."

"I do not mean to be neurotic." He went to the wardrobe, and pulled out a bathrobe, wrapping her in it. "Is that better?"

"The cold doesn't actually bother me as much as you'd think," she said. "It might even help during the summer when I'd otherwise be sweltering."

He didn't reply, but Grace thought she saw a moment of doubt in his eyes. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. "Would you like to bathe first?" he asked. "After last evening, I feel we could both use a hot bath."

"You can go first. I'm going to—"

Before she could finish, she ran to the bathroom, throwing herself on the floor and hanging onto the toilet for dear life. Loki was right behind her, holding her hair out of her face and rubbing her back gently, just as he had the last few weeks. It was maddening, being so incapable of helping her. He was hopeful that the healers here could, at the very least, alleviate these symptoms and make her more comfortable.

When she drew her head up, he got her a glass of cold water. She drank it slowly, terrified she would just throw it all up again. At first the sickness had just been after she ate. Then it was the smell of food. Now, it was for seemingly no reason at all, multiple times a day. She was sure it was also contributing to her exhaustion.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

He crouched down to help her up. "You needn't apologize, love. But I believe you should bathe first after all. Perhaps it will ease the symptoms until we visit the healing room later."

She shook her head. "I'll do it later, after we see the doctor. That's what I was about to say before I puked."

"Do you feel unable? Because I would be more than happy to assist you." Just as the night she told him about the pregnancy, she appeared as though she was holding something back. "Grace, I know that look. What is it?"

"You're going to think I'm nuts."

He took her hand. "There is nothing you could say that would make me think you mad. Please tell me."

She took a deep breath. "I'm afraid that taking a bath will hurt it," she said, embarrassed at her own words.

"What?"

"Well, I mean, it's half-Jotun, right? And Jotuns live on a freaking ice planet," she replied, sitting on the edge of the tub. "I don't want to risk overheating it."

"Darling," he said, as gently as possible, "I may not be certain of this pregnancy's complications, but I am quite sure that a hot bath will not harm the baby."

She was incredulous. "You've spent two weeks telling me that there's no precedent for any of this, and then turn around and tell me you're sure about this one thing? How's that work?"

He cocked his head. "Have you forgotten that, while this baby may be half-Jotun, that I am entirely as much?"

"Oh, yeah, totally forgot," she deadpanned.

"And how many hot baths have I taken? Some of them with you, might I add."

"Look," she said, a bit frantic, "when I was pregnant with Amy, they told me to only take short, warm baths. Because I can take a hot bath no problem, as a grown adult. But a fetus can't tolerate it—and that's a regular human! So, just because you, a fully-grown Frost Giant, can tolerate hot water doesn't mean a half-Jotun fetus can. I'm worried about even showering in warm water!"

He considered this. "I suppose it would not be unreasonable to ask," he finally said. "Do you have any thoughts as to what happens if you are correct and even warm water is unsafe?"

"Then I'll do what I've been doing for the last two weeks."

"And that is?"

"Take a lot of cold showers," she shrugged, adding, "but if we keep having nights like last night, that might not be such a bad thing."

* * *

After witnessing how ill Grace had become, Loki had tried to delay taking his own bath until after they saw the healers, but she had practically shoved him into the tub. She insisted she was fine and that the hour it would take for him to bathe and dress would have no effect on her health. He decided not to argue but took the shortest bath of his life. Ten minutes after he had gotten into the tub, he was out of it, wrapping a towel around his waist and drying his hair with another.

"Grace," he called, heading back into the bedchamber, "once I have dressed, we can depart for—"

He stopped mid-sentence when he entered the room. She had climbed back into bed, still wearing the bathrobe, and was fast asleep. He stood staring at her for a minute; she looked so peaceful, even though only half an hour earlier she had been huddled on the floor getting sick for what he assumed was the first of multiple times that day. Her hand rested on her belly, as if she were cradling the baby. It pained him to have to wake her, but he knew that the sooner they saw the healers, the faster she would feel better. He finished dressing and sat on the edge of the bed, shaking her gently.

"Grace," he said, "we need to go."

She stirred slightly. "Hmm?"

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Wake up, darling."

She turned onto her side and her eyes fluttered open. "Oh…" she said, looking slightly disoriented. "I'm sorry. I just meant to lay down and rest while you were taking your bath."

He smoothed her hair away from her face. "It's all right. But we really must go."

She sat up slowly and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "I know. Would you be able to grab some clothes for me so I can brush my teeth?"

"Certainly," he replied, and helped her off the bed. "Do you have a preference for—"

She waved him off. "No. Whatever you think will be fine for this appointment."

"All right." He watched her walk, a bit unsteady on her feet. "Are you able to make it there without assistance?"

"Yeah. I just feel like I'm moving underwater."

"Perhaps," he said, with worry in his voice, "I can request that they come to our room rather than our going to them."

She smiled, appreciative of his thoughtfulness. "It's okay. I need to keep moving. Don't forget, we have a toddler at home. I can't just sleep all day, every day."

"You are quite possibly the most headstrong woman I have ever met.

"One of the reasons you fell in love with me, right?" she replied as she closed the bathroom door.

_One of the _many_ reasons_, he thought.

* * *

"So, what do you think they're going to do?" Grace asked as she and Loki walked down a long corridor toward the palace's medical wing. This was a hallway she hadn't explored on their last trip, but then, she hadn't had a reason to. "Is there an Asgardian version of an ultrasound or something?"

"Truthfully, I do not know," he replied. "I have not exactly had much reason to inquire about maternity care."

She laughed. "I would hope not!"

"I do believe there are midwives who can tell us more about what symptoms you may experience that are specific to Jotun pregnancies," he said. "I would like to know whether we should come here for the birth or if a Midgardian hospital would suffice."

"Lord, I hope it's the second option. I can't imagine making that trip through the Bifrost when I'm about to give birth."

He hesitated, contemplating his next words. "Perhaps this is not the opportune moment to mention this, but Mother and Father are going to meet us."

She stopped dead in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"I do not wish to unnerve you. Mother in particular is concerned, and Father wishes to keep apprised of the matter."

She was still aghast. "And he has to be there for that? Can't someone just send him a message? Usually doctor appointments aren't group activities, and I don't need my future in-laws in the room while someone is prodding me with God knows what."

He squeezed her hand. "It will not be invasive, I assure you. And they are merely concerned. It is their grandchild after all, and one which has been conceived under extraordinary circumstances."

"Not to mention it's the heir to the throne, after you and Thor, right?"

"Only if my dear brother does not do what is expected of him," he said. "They are not concerned about the implications for the realm, Grace. They are acting as our family, not as royals."

She remained skeptical but realized she didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. The important thing—the _only_ important thing—was the safety of herself and the baby, and the only way to ensure that safety lay ahead of them. She let him lead her onward until they came to a set of stone pillars, beyond which she could see a large, glass table and dozens of an Asgardian approximation of test tubes, which floated in the air near the opposite wall. There were also medical instruments that she did not recognize, but that didn't surprise her.

Suddenly, someone behind them cleared their throat. They turned to find a woman standing just outside the door. She looked around Vivian's age, though Grace knew she must be several thousand years old, and she wore her hair in a braid that wrapped around her head like a crown. Her face was kind and she smiled warmly.

"Your Highness. Lady Grace," she said, "I am Leea. I was summoned to attend to you today."

Then, from behind Leea, appeared a familiar young woman with dark eyes and long, blonde hair. "Dagmar!" Grace exclaimed, instinctively hugging her.

Dagmar looked shocked but returned the gesture just the same. "It is good to see you again"—she glanced at Loki, slightly apprehensive—"Grace."

Leea swept into the room, her long blue dress grazing the stone floor. "Dagmar will be assisting me today. As you know, her area of expertise lies in preparing the ladies of the Court for royal events, but the queen suggested you might be more comfortable with a familiar face."

Grace smiled broadly. Maybe Loki was right; perhaps his parents really were just concerned with her and their grandchild. "Okay, so what do you need me to do? Do I need to change into a hospital gown or something?"

Leea looked slightly confused, but Loki intervened. "It is a Midgardian robe of sorts, worn by patients in their hospitals."

"Oh, no," she replied. "It is not necessary for you to change your clothing, but if you could remove your jewelry, that would be helpful. Then just lay down and try to relax."

He helped Grace onto the table, and she handed him her ring and necklace. Then she laid down and Dagmar slipped a pillow under her head. She expected to feel cold glass against her skin, but it seemed like the table was heated somehow. She tried to do as Leea said and relax, but it felt like she couldn't release tension from any of her muscles. She suspected it was because she desperately wanted to know what was to come.

While Leea and Dagmar were across the room preparing for the examination, Loki took her hand and kissed it. "My love, I will return shortly. I am going to see about Mother and—"

"Allfather!" Leea exclaimed as Odin marched into the room. She sank into a low curtsey alongside Dagmar, who looked rather frightened. Frigga followed closely behind and went directly to Grace's side.

Loki bowed his head. "Father. Mother."

Grace started to sit up, but Odin held up his hand. "Be still," he said gently. "I must speak with my son and the healers."

"How are you feeling?" Frigga asked.

"Oh, you know, fine, all things considered," Grace replied. "Bit nervous."

Frigga smiled encouragingly. "I assure you, nothing done here will cause you pain."

Meanwhile, Odin had beckoned Leea, Dagmar, and Loki to the other side of the room for a private conversation. "What have you learned so far?" he asked Leea.

"We are just about to begin the examination. We need to use the Essence Wand and the Soul Forge."

Loki immediately locked eyes with her. "The Soul Forge?" he asked sharply. "She does not have an infection."

"Highness, forgive me, but the Forge will not only tell us whether she or the fetus have infections but also will process the data from the Essence Wand. It is not often used this way, as we rarely have occasion to need it for that reason."

"Is it likely that infection is present?" Odin asked.

"We do not know what we are dealing with, Majesty," Leea said, as Dagmar handed her a vial of blue liquid that she then poured into a cup. "We will also be able to extract samples of her existing symptoms to tell us not only how to treat them but perhaps what to expect in the future."

Odin nodded, dismissing them. Although Dagmar returned to the table, Odin and Loki remained across the room, away from where Leea was working. _Typical men, _Grace thought.

"I think they are trying to stay out of the way," Frigga said, almost as if reading her mind.

"Some things are universal, I guess." She looked at Dagmar. "Do you remember when I said that it would probably be impossible for a human and a demigod to reproduce?"

Dagmar smiled at the memory. "I do."

"Well, I guess I was wrong," Grace replied. "Dagmar, I need you to tell me something, and I'm asking you because I know you'll be honest with me."

"Of course."

"Do you think—do you think it's likely that this pregnancy can work?"

"Well, we clearly cannot know what is possible, much less what is likely," Dagmar said quietly, but she smiled. "Then again, I never thought it possible that I would be more than a servant until recently."

Meanwhile, Odin and Loki silently watched Grace, Frigga, and Dagmar as Leea prepared the potion Grace would need to drink. "I believe congratulations are in order," Odin finally said.

"You are not disappointed?"

"Disappointed? No. Surprised? Quite."

"Well, I always endeavor to be unpredictable," Loki replied. Then, he lowered his voice. "You know, I told Grace that you and Mother are here out of concern as grandparents."

"Do you believe otherwise?"

Loki turned then to face his father. "I am sure Mother is."

Odin frowned. "Do you truly think so little of me?" His voice betrayed a hint of sadness. "After all this time?"

"You are my father, but you are also the King of Asgard, Protector of the Nine Realms," Loki replied. "It is not that I do not trust you. But I do not think it improbable that there is another motive for your insistence on being here. History informs that belief."

Before Odin could respond, Leea walked past them with what looked like a cup of tea and handed it to Grace. "Drink," she instructed.

Grace took a sip. It tasted like peppermint, and although it was cold, when she drank it, it warmed her through. "What is it? I don't mean to be annoying. I just like knowing what's going on."

"Of course," Leea said with an understanding smile. "Tis a potion. It will allow us to see not only you but also the fetus. We will also be able to view your symptoms, which we can extract to determine their expected duration and severity, as well as possibly predict future ones. We had to improvise slightly, however."

"Improvise what?" Loki suddenly appeared at Grace's side. She had almost forgotten he was in the room.

"Well, the potion is meant to allow us to view"—Leea hesitated, glancing back at Odin, who nodded—"Asgardian fetuses. We have never had the need to see a human fetus before, or a Jotun one, for that matter."

Loki stiffened slightly, then looked at Grace. "I am sorry that it sounds as if we are experimenting on you."

"Honey, I'm having a baby that is only partially human," she replied. "I kind of expected to feel like a science project."

Dagmar laughed. "I told you she was funny," she said to Leea.

"It will certainly make this much easier on all involved," Leea said. "The more relaxed you are, the better we will be able to observe what is going on inside you."

Once Grace had finished the potion, she laid back down, suddenly slightly dizzy. "Am I supposed to feel like—"

Leea raised her hands. "You may feel just a bit dizzy, perhaps nauseated, for a moment. It will pass." Suddenly, a blue, shimmering silhouette of a human body appeared above Grace. It hovered above her, almost like a translucent, three-dimensional mannequin.

She was astounded. "Is that me?"

"Yes." Leea moved her hand across the silhouette. It rippled slightly, and then an invisible screen of some kind appeared in front of Leea with writing and symbols that Grace did not understand.

"Well?" Odin asked, suddenly appearing at the end of the table at Grace's feet. "What do you see?"

Leea moved her hand again, this time upwards. "I see no sign of infection in her. Now, prepare yourselves…"

Suddenly, the silhouette split. Grace's image was still there but had moved to one side. Loki heard Frigga gasp quietly, but his eyes were fixated on the portion that had splintered away and was now hovering so near him that he could have touched it. He thought back to the night Grace told him she was pregnant, of how he had been angry with himself and terrified that he had contributed to the making of a monster. Even up until now, he had been secretly worried that, despite what he told her, he would not be able to feel the way he should about a being he had helped create.

But those feelings no longer existed. The fear, anxiety, and self-doubt evaporated. What he was looking at was no bigger than a strawberry, its limbs fully formed, with the tiniest fingers and toes he had ever seen. He couldn't tell much more beyond that, but it didn't much matter.

From the second he saw it, he was in love with his child.

"Oh my God," Grace said, without a hint of irony. She put her hand over her heart and looked up at him. "Loki, that's—we made that." She began to cry, and Dagmar handed her a handkerchief. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, still processing the cascade of emotions pouring over him. He gripped her hand like he was holding on for dear life.

"I love you," he said, simply and quietly, and he meant it, more than ever.

Meanwhile, Leea was carefully studying measurements on the invisible screen. "Excuse me for a moment," she said as she left the table. She returned quickly with what looked like one of those wands they used at the airport for random security screenings.

"What's that?" Grace asked.

"Your world's closest equivalent would be a spectrometer," Odin said, coming around to Frigga's side as he carefully observed the floating images. "We are measuring the child's life force to determine its composition."

Frigga laid a hand on her husband's arm, as if to remind him that he may as well have been speaking another language. "You see, my dear, each race of beings is comprised of different energies, which we call life forces. A human's life force is completely different than an Asgardian's."

"Or a Jotun," Leea added. She moved the wand slowly over the tiny ball of light still floating in midair.

"So, this is going to show you how much of the baby is human and how much is Jotun?" Grace asked.

Leea nodded. "This is also the part where I extract samples of your symptoms to examine them. Be as still as you can." Grace watched, mesmerized, as Leea waved the wand over her image, pulling out bursts of colors that were absorbed into the wand. She suddenly felt much lighter, and much less exhausted. Before long, Leea waved the invisible screen away. "All right. I need to run these through the Forge. Hopefully I will have results within a few minutes."

"I would like to monitor the progress myself," Odin said.

"Of course," Leea replied with a curtsey. They both went back to the other side of the room, having a quiet conversation about the testing process.

"May I get anyone anything?" Dagmar asked.

"No, thank you," Grace replied, as did Frigga.

Dagmar glanced at Loki. "Highness?"

He snapped back to attention. So lost was he in the wonder of his child that he had lost track of what was going on around him.

"I—oh, no, thank you." The truth was that the only thing he wanted was to know what lay in store for all of them.

Frigga, realizing that Grace and Loki needed a moment alone, gently drew Dagmar away from the table by the arm. "Come, Dagmar. I must discuss the upcoming banquet with you while we have a moment; several of the ladies have requested your services."

When everyone was out of earshot, Grace looked up at Loki. "I can't believe what we're seeing up there." She was on the verge of tears again.

"Up until now, I believe I subconsciously still doubted it was possible," he admitted, looking from her to the hologram and back again. Then, he laughed quietly. She was immediately taken back to the first time she heard it. They had been in the park, near Strawberry Fields, and she had made some dumb joke referencing the first night they'd met—she couldn't even remember what she'd said, but she remembered the sound of his laughter. It was melodious and genuine. And despite the passage of time, she had never grown tired of hearing it. She hoped the baby would have that laugh.

"Do I want to know?" she asked.

A hint of mischief sparkled in his emerald eyes. "Oh, I was just thinking that Stark once made a quite sarcastic remark about my 'performance issues.' It is too bad he cannot see how wrong he was."

She rolled her eyes. "Your sense of humor is twisted sometimes, you know that?"

He echoed her earlier words. "One of the reasons you fell in love with me, is it not?"

Suddenly, she realized that she felt much less exhausted and nauseated than she had in weeks. She wondered if it had to do with Leea extracting samples of her symptoms. Thankfully, it was then that Leea and Odin returned, expressionless. Before the older woman could say anything, Grace asked, "Do you have to put what you took out back in?"

Leea shook her head. "No. But I cannot take all of the symptoms from you, either. Your body will simply continue to generate them. However, for the short term, those you have now will be lessened."

Loki seemed even more relieved by this than Grace did. "Well, that was not exactly the treatment I was expecting, but it will do, won't it?"

"As long as I'm not throwing up everything I eat, I'm good," she said. "Can I sit up now?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry," Leea said. "I just need to…"

She lifted both her hands in the air and brought them down. Suddenly, the images of both Grace and the fetus disappeared. Grace sat up, feeling slightly saddened at the loss of the image of her child, but anxious to know more about the pregnancy. Leea called out to Frigga, who dismissed Dagmar and returned to the table. Grace was disappointed that she was unable to say goodbye to the girl who had been so kind to her, but she knew this would not be the last they would see of each other.

"So," Loki asked anxiously, "have you discovered anything that may be helpful to us?"

"I am quite surprised to say that we have learned even more than I expected. Would you like me to begin with the good news or the bad?"

Grace's stomach dropped. She looked at Loki, whose face had gone pale. She expected him to take the lead, but it appeared as though he was, for once, incapable of forming words. "I—we might as well start with the bad," she finally replied.

"All right. I should begin by saying that we cannot predict every symptom you may experience. And as I said before, I cannot keep the symptoms from recurring. For the next day or two, you will feel better, but the extraction process is only temporary. Based on what I extracted, and the way it reacted when put through the Forge, you will experience all the symptoms of a human pregnancy—nausea, exhaustion, shortness of breath, and the like—and the symptoms will be severe, more severe than if the fetus was fully human."

Grace was instantly horrified by this idea; she had barely made it a month with this nausea. How could she stand it for nine months? But then she realized what that meant: the pregnancy was safe to carry to term. "Okay, well…that's not as bad as it _could_ be, I guess."

"That, however, is the extent of the bad news. Are you ready for the good?"

"After that, there's nowhere to go but up," Grace replied.

"Please tell me that the Jotun-to-human ratio is at least somewhat balanced," Loki said, startling Grace, who wasn't expecting him to ask something like that.

"Your child's life force is comprised of approximately 70% human essence and 30% Jotun."

Color returned to his face, but his brow remained furrowed with concern. "What does that mean?"

"From what we can tell, and what I can predict, it will have the overall appearance of a human, including its rate of growth after birth. To the eye, your child will appear as any other human would. As for the Jotun portion—"

"Wait, back up," Grace interjected. "You said its rate of growth _after_ birth will be like a human. What does that mean about its growth _before_ birth?"

"Ah, yes, of course. The date of your conception was when?"

"The doctor—the one on Earth, I mean—said it was sometime in—in mid-April. Maybe the fourteenth," she replied, blushing slightly as she remembered that there were still other people besides Loki in the room—specifically the king and queen. She knew they knew how babies were made, of course, but there was something weird about acknowledging she and their son had made one while in the palace. It was like having sex in your parents' (very opulent) house. Thankfully, neither Frigga nor Odin reacted to this revelation.

"Well, judging from the progression of the fetus' growth, it seems that it is developing at an advanced rate from a normal human pregnancy. To put it quite simply, it has been six calendar weeks since you conceived, but the fetus is as developed as a human would be at nine weeks."

"Does that mean I'm going to be pregnant for less than forty weeks?"

"My best estimate," Leea said," is that you would be ready to deliver the baby at six, perhaps six-and-a-half months. Which brings me back to the symptoms. While they will continue to be severe, they will last for a much shorter time. Your nausea, for example, will likely pass within the next two weeks. As to the cold in your abdomen—"

"I presume that is from my side," Loki said.

Leea nodded. "While the child will look human, it will nevertheless possess many Jotun traits. It will prefer cold temperatures and have an increased resistance to injury. There is also the potential for superhuman strength, although that will need to be assessed after it is born."

He wanted to be sure he understood completely. "But—it will not be capable of transforming into a purely Jotun form?"

"No," she replied. "That I can say with absolute certainty. Were that going to be possible, the life force analysis would have shown it. I see no evidence that it will have the distinguishing features of a Frost Giant."

When they first arrived in Asgard, all Loki had wanted was to know that Grace could safely carry the child. Yet he also felt an immense sense of relief in knowing that his child would not have to conceal its true nature.

"If I may," Frigga said, "would you recommend that Grace return here for the delivery of the child, or would a Midgardian hospital be sufficient?" Grace couldn't help but notice that Frigga had phrased the question in almost the exact words that Loki had used earlier. He truly was his mother's son, just as Amy was, in many ways, her father's daughter.

Before Leea could answer, Odin spoke for the first time since she had delivered the examination results. "I believe the child should be birthed here." Loki, Frigga, and Grace all turned to look at him, hoping for an explanation. "The child may be a Frost Giant and a human by essence, but it will be of Asgard, a member of the royal family."

"It will also be a member of my family," Grace replied without even thinking. The last time she spoke to the Allfather plainly, he had been amused. This time, she worried he would not be quite so forgiving. However, Odin had developed an affection for her, especially after having met his existing grandchild.

"It is not my wish to discount your family's attachment to this child. You may bring whomever you wish to the palace to attend the birth, and they will be treated as our family. But," he said, a serious look on his normally impassive face, "I must insist on this—command it—as King of Asgard."

Loki stared at his father, knowing that there was in fact something more going on, something that had nothing to do with grandfatherly concern. He determined he would find out what exactly it was, but that would take some time and possibly clandestine investigation. But for now, he needed Grace to let it go, so he put a hand on her arm, squeezing a warning to her.

She opened her mouth but closed it just as quickly, turning back to Leea. "Thank you. You have no idea how much of a relief it is to know that the baby and I are both safe."

"I am glad to have been of service," Leea replied. "Is there anything else I can answer for you?"

Loki was about to say no, but Grace stopped him. "There is one other thing, actually."

"Yes?"

"I need you to settle an argument," she replied. "Just so I'm clear, hot baths aren't safe, right?"

Leea furrowed her brow. "Warm showers would be fine," she said, "but until the child is born, I would strongly discourage hot water. Even human fetuses cannot tolerate submersion in hot water for extended periods of time, as I am sure you know. With even partial Jotun composition, this fetus would be completely unable to, even for a few minutes. A fully-grown Frost Giant, yes. This fetus? No."

Grace shot Loki a triumphant look, knowing he would roll his eyes and pretend to be irritated. But, his mind on his father's command, Loki was too distracted to give even the illusion of annoyance.


	6. Transformations

**A/N: **This chapter is slightly shorter than my others, but I think it needed to end where it did. The great majority of it is NSFW, but we're all adults here, right? Hopefully, since I marked this story as rated-M? Anyway, I'm going to be studying for the bar exam soon, as I said last chapter, but I wanted to shoot one more out for you guys. I hope I'll get to post another between now and March—it's just going to depend on how much relaxation time I get. Until then, enjoy, dear ones, and thank you for ALL your support, comments, and messages. They mean the world to me!

**Song: **"Insatiable" by Darren Hayes

* * *

"Well, the first thing we need to do is tell my parents," Grace said as she and Loki settled in for the night. They had arrived home that afternoon and Loki had picked Amy up from her parents' apartment by himself. He explained that Grace had, as she put it, jet lag. Vivian had asked if his family emergency was resolved. He had told her that everything seemed to have been worked out for the time being. Thankfully he hadn't had to resort to lies. Somehow, he sensed that Vivian, like Rachel, had an innate sense of when she was being deceived. "I can see if they can come for brunch on Sunday. I don't want to wait too long. I'm bound to start showing soon and I can't hide it forever."

"I agree," he said. "We should tell them as soon as we can, so that we can also tell Amy that she is going to have a sibling."

She smiled. "She's going to be so excited. She always tags along with Stacy's kids like she thinks they _are_ her siblings."

He picked up a book from his nightstand and climbed into bed next to her. It was comforting to be back in their home. The pale blue walls and paper lanterns lit with bulbs may not have been as luxurious as his chamber on Asgard, but it felt far more like home now. The sheets smelled like Grace's perfume. Their bathrobes hung on hooks on the door. And on her dresser, there was a framed photograph of him, Amy, and Grace at Amy's second birthday party. He wouldn't have traded that for all the riches in Asgard.

"Are you quite tired? If you need me to, I can go to the living room to read."

"Oh, no, believe me, you could come in here with a floodlight and I'd be able to sleep tonight." She turned off her nightstand lamp and rolled onto her side, tucking herself under his arm and against his chest. "What are you reading?"

"Oh," he sighed, "it's just a volume on astronomy that I read frequently as a child. The library will never miss it."

She turned her head up to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You're a librarian and you're stealing library books."

He laughed. "It isn't as if they will assess penalties on me."

She turned her head back down and closed her eyes. For a while, she was quiet, the only sound in the room her rhythmic breathing. Just as he thought she was asleep, she said something he couldn't make out. "What was that? I could not understand you."

"Would you do something silly for me?"

"I would do anything in my power for you." He could feel her contented smile against his chest.

"Would you tell me a story from your childhood?"

"I'm sorry?"

"A story, from when you were young."

"You're almost asleep."

"You said anything in your power," she reminded him.

"Ah, the things I do for love."

Settling down onto his pillow, he thought for a moment. He had never shared many stories of his childhood with her. There was no real reason for this; he simply didn't often feel the need to offer them and she rarely asked. Then, he looked down. She had her hand wrapped under the barely noticeable swell of her belly. It occurred to him that perhaps she was asking not for herself so much as for their child—a bedtime story of sorts. He had an idea. "Do you recall the story Thor told at dinner about my changing into a snake and stabbing him when he picked me up?"

"Yes," she yawned.

"Well, he did not tell it exactly as it was. Although he did compliment my magical ability, he downplayed the entire scenario, per usual."

"Oh?"

"When we were children, we had an ongoing war of sorts, over a few centuries. In Asgard, it is not uncommon for youths to spar, as we explained to Amy, but Thor and I were known to take it a bit far. He once lifted me above his head and threw me to the ground as though I were an empty ale stein. Not unlike what he did to me on top of Stark Tower, actually." He heard a barely audible laugh and rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, hilarious."

"Mmm. Sorry."

"At any rate," he continued, "in an escalating battle, I decided to transform into a snake. He never could resist admiring them, which I never understood because I had played this prank on him in the past. That day, I used it to my advantage, because I happened to see him sparring with Sif. At that time, he had an enormous boyhood—what is it you mortals call it?"

"A crush."

"Ah, yes. That's it," he nodded. "So, before either of them saw me coming, I transformed into the snake and approached them. When they took a break, I slithered close enough to Thor that he could see me. As I knew he would, he immediately picked me up, at which point I transformed back into myself and, well…"

"Well what?"

"Well…that was when I conjured the dagger and stabbed him. He screamed, Sif screamed, I laughed. The thing is"—he lowered his head, a bit ashamed—"it wasn't simply a child's weapon. It was a full-sized dagger."

She sat up and turned to look at him. "Did you hurt him?"

He laughed. "Only his pride, really. It was the only time Mother ever scolded and punished me harshly. In fact, now that I think of it…"

"What?"

"It occurs to me that the blade I conjured was made of ice. I don't remember actively trying to do that, but I did, and Mother was horrified when Thor whined to her about it. I had my powers limited for a week, just as I did when I was banished."

She lay back down against him. "Did the pranks end then?"

He smiled and turned out the light, kissing the top of her head in the darkness. "Heavens, no," he said, and she could sense the mischief in his memory. "Upon the return of my magic, I turned him into a frog and tossed him into the river."

After a few minutes, her breathing slowed and her grip around his waist slackened. She snored lightly, although he never had the inclination to tell her that. He found it soothing, a lullaby she never intended to sing. And as he drifted off with her, a thought floated through his mind, barely grazing it but leaving an imprint nonetheless. All those years ago, when Frigga had taken his powers, was it because she was angry _with_ him or because she was afraid _for_ him?

* * *

"So, are you done with the visits to outer space for a little while, or are you planning to change your address?" Stacy had just opened her door to Grace and Amy, who were hand-in-hand on the steps of her Prospect Heights brownstone.

"Believe me," Grace said, "I'd love to stop getting out the suitcases for the next year or two."

"How's Loki's family?"

"Oh, everything's fine, I think. Thanks for watching her today." Grace gestured toward Amy. The little girl was fidgeting with her backpack, which was full of books and a spare t-shirt for when she inevitably spilled juice on the one she was wearing.

"No problem at all," Stacy said. "You know we're always happy to watch her. Big plans today?"

"Oh, we're just having my parents over for brunch, to thank them for babysitting last weekend." Then she crouched down and put her hands on Amy's shoulders. "Hey, kiddo."

Amy glanced up at her through long, black eyelashes. "Yes, Mommy?"

"What do we do at Aunt Stacy's house?"

"Anything Aunt Stacy says," Amy replied, looking very serious.

"Exactly. Hugs and kisses?"

Amy threw herself into her mother's arms, nearly knocking Grace over the in the process. Grace gave her five or six quick kisses on her pink, chubby cheeks, when Stacy's kids, Paul Jr. and Chloe, appeared in the hallway behind their mother. Amy took off after them, laughing with abandon.

Stacy laughed and helped Grace to her feet. "Well, I guess I know where I stand."

"Believe me, whenever she has a choice between Loki or me reading her a bedtime story, I get the same treatment."

"What time do you want to pick her up? I was thinking of taking them to the park to tire them out."

"Oh, that would be perfect, actually. Maybe around five o'clock if that's not an issue?"

"Not at all," Stacy said. "Now, go enjoy some adult conversation while I listen to the Frozen soundtrack for the millionth time."

"Isn't that movie like, two years old now?"

"And it's been on rotation for"—Stacy checked her watch—"oh, two years now."

They laughed and said goodbye. Then, Grace headed back home, leaving one child with her surrogate aunt and carrying the other directly under her heart.

* * *

Meanwhile, Loki had just finished braiding the ropes of dough for the bread. He had seen Grace make it so many times that he had said he could do it without even needing a cookbook. He should have realized that she would call his bluff, and his ego wouldn't allow him to admit defeat. And so it was that he was putting the loaf of bread into the oven when she walked through the door.

"Well, it doesn't smell like you've burned anything," she said, "so I already consider this a success."

"I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed. "How many meals have I prepared for you?"

She entered the kitchen and bent over to look through the oven. "Several, but none of them involved baking."

He slapped her playfully on the rear. "Just because you have not seen me do something does not mean I am incapable of it."

She stood up and turned toward him, arms crossed, considering him for a moment. "That's probably true," she finally said, and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Well, if you think of any new skills you'd like to show me, I'm going to be in the shower…"

With that, she left the kitchen and headed down the hallway. A few moments later, he heard the water running. He looked at the closed bathroom door, then back at the oven timer. Forty-five minutes, it read. A wicked smile washed over his face and he decided that he, too, could use a shower.

When he entered the bathroom, she was already behind the curtain, humming a tune unknown to him. He stripped off his clothes and cleared his throat, knowing from experience that she tended to startle easily. She stopped humming and pulled the curtain aside just enough to signal an invitation. As he stepped in, he drew in a sharp breath, taking in the beauty of her neck, down her back, to the curve of her rear and the length of her legs. Her wet hair draped over one shoulder as she turned around to face him. His eyes immediately dropped to her breasts, which seemed to have doubled in size overnight. She followed his gaze downward and a slow smile played across her lips.

She pushed her hair behind her shoulder. "Something interesting?" she asked casually.

He approached her like an animal about to pounce upon its prey. Which, he knew, was exactly what she intended. She grabbed him and pulled him under the stream of water with her.

"What has gotten into you that has made you so…affectionate?" he murmured against her ear.

She wrapped one hand through his hair, and the other around his erection. She never would understand how he could get so aroused so fast. "Well," she said, "remember how Leea said that all my symptoms would be more severe than a normal pregnancy?"

He groaned, low and deep in his throat as she tightened her grip on him. "I do."

She smiled at the noises he made, knowing she was causing them. "Good thing for you, this pregnancy apparently makes me need sex like crazy."

That was music to his ears. He pushed her against the wall, pinning her shoulders to it with his hands, and kissed her hard on the mouth. It still amazed him that she allowed him this, after all she had been through, but she trusted him and knew he would never harm or force her.

"You mean good thing for _you_," he said, voice dark and heady. He kissed the side of her jaw, down to a spot on her neck where he knew would cause heat to pool between her thighs. "Isn't that what you meant, my love?"

She licked her lips and felt something in her stomach tighten as he pressed his body against hers. "Maybe good thing for both of us?" she finally managed to whisper.

He kissed her again, letting his tongue slide along her lips as he pulled away. "And what do you suppose gives me the most pleasure, hmm?" he asked. "Perhaps I should show you?"

She freed herself of his grip just enough to grasp at his shoulders. "Perhaps you should."

His hair dripped water onto her breasts as he kissed his way down her body. And then finally, he was on his knees in front of her, staring up at her hungrily.

"I would love to spend the entire afternoon licking the water from every inch of your skin," he said, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder, "but as we are, you might say, 'on the clock,' I believe I will focus my efforts on just one part of you."

Before she could respond, he pressed his mouth to her, licking a path from back to front. But although he had done this to her what seemed like hundreds of times, this time made her gasp in shock. His tongue felt ice cold, which would have been painful if not for the fact that his breath was somehow still warm. He squeezed the flesh of her thighs, trying to maintain the focus he needed to do what he was doing to her, wondering if she could see it. He could feel her body tensing above him, the calf over his shoulder pressing into his back. One of his hands left her thigh and traveled further inward, until his fingers found her entrance. He slowly—agonizingly slowly, in her opinion—slid two of them inside her as he pulled his mouth away.

She bit back a sob. "Why did you stop?!"

"My sweet little minx," he purred, ignoring her question, "even if we were not already wet, _you_ would be."

He kissed the inside of her thighs again, working his way back to her center, tongue still cold against her flesh. The fingers inside her moved, curling against one spot that almost made her come undone right there, grinding against his mouth. That was when she glanced down and saw it—the faintest shade of blue tinted his normally pale skin, with patterned ridges visible under the surface.

She gasped, not in shock of what she saw, but of how utterly, insanely good what he was doing felt. Every time she thought he couldn't make sex better, he somehow found a way. Whether it was how he looked at her, or the movements he made against her, or some new position, or even just the way he spoke to her, each time felt more satisfying than the last.

Sometimes she felt like Loki was fate's way of making up for what had happened to her body. Or maybe Loki was trying to make up for it himself.

Either way, she was currently focused on the lascivious way he was sucking on her. She felt her knees start to tremble. But before he could finish her off, she pushed him away and grabbed hold of his hair, pulling his head back. He was clearly taken by surprise. The blue glow faded away, as did the ridges in his forehead.

"No," she said. "I want to feel you."

He grinned, wiping his chin as he stood up. "Feel me…where?" he asked, leaning down to whisper in her ear. It gave him immense pleasure to hear her tell him what she wanted from him.

She gasped, shivering against the rumble of his voice. "I—I want you—"

"Where do you want to feel"—he took her hand and placed it around his erection again—"me?"

She squinted playfully at him, smiled, and turned around to face the back wall of the shower. She bent at the waist, knowing how much he would enjoy this view, and placed her palms on the wall. His hands roamed over the curve of her spine and settled on her ass, squeezing the flesh, watching her move under his touch. If they had not been in such a slippery environment, he might have even spanked her, but he didn't want to risk it.

And then she looked over her shoulder at him, pupils so dilated that he could barely see anything but blue.

"I want you to fuck me," she finally said, giving him what he wanted. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back toward him. He entered her slowly, tenderly, effortlessly. But as soon as he had filled her, he pulled back out, just as slowly and deliberately. She let out a sound that resembled something between a pant and a whine.

He smiled mischievously. "I'm sorry, is something amiss?"

"Tease," she growled.

"Not for long."

This time, he drove back into her to the hilt, hitting every single spot she craved. He stayed pressed against her, moving his hips just so, until he heard her mewling, trying to get him to give her more. But he wouldn't—not until she said one more, very specific thing. He again withdrew almost completely, and she gasped, aching for the fullness she felt with him inside her.

"_Damn you_," she said through gritted teeth. She heard a dark laugh behind her.

"If you want more, you know how to get it."

Though his voice was low and breathy, she could hear the power in it. It wouldn't take much to bring her to the finish, but she also knew he wouldn't let her have it until she did as he asked. She felt like she might explode from need.

His arm wrapped underneath her, long fingers lightly stroking back and forth between her thighs. "I _know_ you know. All you need to do is—"

"Loki," she finally cried, trying to get his fingers where she wanted them, "make me yours!"

That did it. He slammed back into her, over and over again, watching her breasts bounce underneath her with each movement. And he gave her what she'd begged for, rubbing the tiny bundle of nerves between her thighs, feeling her wetness cover his hand even with him inside her. He was trying to hold out until she screamed for him. It wasn't easy; she was so unbelievably tight, even after all this time.

"You _will_ come for me, Grace, and _only_ for me," he ordered, increasing his grip on her hips. Thankfully, she had been so close for so long that it only took a few well-timed thrusts for her to start chanting all manner of obscenities. He tumbled along after her, unable to resist the pleasure of her muscles constricting around him. He bent forward and bit her shoulder, her name on his lips, over and over. She nearly collapsed, but he caught her, as she knew he always would.

When she felt him soften and ease out of her, she turned in his arms. She watched his chest rise and fall, muscles twitching with exhaustion. But his eyes were still full of passion, even after his release.

He pushed her hair back from her face, grabbed her bottle of shampoo, and squeezed some into his palm. The lather easily formed as he ran his hands through the strands, gently separating them as he worked. It wasn't often that they got to shower together, but this was something he loved doing every chance he got. The same fingers that had made her come undone just moments earlier now massaged the back of her head. She thought she might dissolve under his touch, but then realized that something inside her already had.

* * *

A few minutes later, they were standing in their bedroom, drying off and getting dressed as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. But for Grace, something very unusual _had_ happened, and she was trying to figure out a way to express it without breaking down. Her parents would be there in an hour or so, and she did not want to have to explain red, puffy eyes. As she finished pulling on her jeans, she turned to look at him. He was just pulling a shirt over his head, hair already halfway dry, and gave her the smile she loved so much.

Suddenly, her heart swelled with the realization of the depth of their love. The raw sexual energy between them could transform into gentle, loving gestures in the blink of an eye. He could be feral and almost rough, but she knew underneath that lived the real Loki—the one who loved doing something as tender as washing her hair for her and who could make her melt with a lopsided, impish grin.

"Do you know how much I love you?" she asked, a certain intensity to her voice that he had not heard in months.

He sat down on the bed to put his socks on. "I would like to think so."

She sat down next to him and waited until he finished to continue. "Do you realize that what we just did—and how we did it—was something we've never done before?"

It had indeed occurred to him that in all these months, they had not had relations in that manner. They had experimented in all sorts of other ways, but for some reason, Grace had never seemed open to that position. He always assumed that it simply was not enjoyable for her, and he did not feel the need to push the issue; there were a multitude of other ways they could enjoy one another.

"Now that you mention it, yes, that would seem to be the case. Why do you bring it up?"

"The reason I've never wanted to do that before with you isn't because I didn't _want_ to do it," she said, tears in her eyes. "It was because I'd done it _before_."

His eyes widened. She did not need to explain further for him to understand what she was telling him. "Oh, my love…" He took her into his arms and felt her press her cheek to his shoulder, trying to convey with his body what his lips would not allow him to say. "We did not have to—"

"I know we didn't have to. That's exactly why I wanted to. It was the last broken thing, and you're the only person who could help me fix it. I'm carrying your child. I wanted to be a whole person again before it's born."

She looked away from him, as though saying the words aloud made their meaning sound ridiculous. He took her chin in his hand and gently brought her face back in his direction. His gaze was now more intense than hers had been.

"I want you to understand something, Grace. You are already whole, and I know this because I fell in love with the whole of you. But," he said, kissing her hand, "I am happy to have replaced that memory with one that you might look more fondly upon."

She smiled then, and he kissed her on the mouth, as if to sear the memory in her mind forever. Then, she realized she had something else she wanted to ask. "Speaking of memories, I'm not going to forget what you were doing while you were on your knees for a _long_ time. What was that?"

He shrugged. "I learned long ago that, while I may not always be able to control my Jotun form from appearing—as it did in that alley—I am able to summon it when and how I choose."

"So, you…turned?"

The impish grin returned to his face. "I did. Or, at least, my mouth did."

Although she knew he was trying to bring levity to their conversation, she remained serious. "But why? You hate your Jotun form."

"I do not mind so much when I am in control of it. Besides," he continued, with a wave of his hand, "_you_ were the one who asked me to join you if I had any new skills I wanted to show you. _I_ merely took you at your word."


	7. Secrets Told

**A/N: **As the great Elle Woods once said, "Omigod you guys!" I'm back! It's been a minute - the bar exam took a good chunk of my energy, and now this COVID crap is sapping even more of it. But I feel like now more than ever, the world needs fanfiction, and I've been working on this chapter for a month and a half now. It's relatively short compared to the others, but it accomplishes what it needs to and sets up the rest of the story well. I hope people are excited to have a new one, and that you're all still around to enjoy it.

Also, I'd like to clarify - Amy is only 2.5 years old at this point, but we're going to go ahead and say she's a gifted child. I need her to have more vocabulary than the average kid, and with Loki as a parent figure, I feel like she would be more advanced than other kids her age. At any rate, I apologize for the lack of "realism" there but I just gotta get done what I gotta get done, and we're talking about space magic anyway, so suspend your disbelief. ;)

I've already got the next chapter in the works, so hopefully it won't be another couple months between this and that one. Thank you so much for your comments and encouragement. They mean the world.

**Song: **"In My Life" by The Beatles (although I picked the Diana Krall version for my Spotify playlist because I love her version so much).

* * *

"Honey, did you do something different with the challah?" Vivian asked.

"Why?" Grace replied. "Is it not as good as usual?" She shot Loki a sly grin, as if to claim victory in the Great Challah War.

Vivian took another bite of the French toast. "No. Actually, it's even better this time!"

Grace nearly choked on her orange juice while Loki looked quite pleased with himself. "I added some vanilla extract and cinnamon to the batter," he said. Vivian and Al both looked at him in shock.

"_You _baked it?" Vivian asked.

"Why the tone of surprise?"

"I'm just surprised Grace _let _you bake it," Al said. "Usually she kicks everyone out of her kitchen when she's having people over."

"Well, since you're clearly the better breadsmith," Grace said to Loki, "guess who gets to do it from now on?"

Loki sipped his coffee. "I am beginning to regret having said anything."

She shrugged. "That's what you get for being a smartass." He grinned. When she gave him back the sarcasm he routinely dished out, it was nearly an aphrodisiac. She turned back to her parents. "Anyway, we just wanted to thank you guys for being so helpful and taking Amy on such short notice."

Vivian smiled. "Why wouldn't we? She's our granddaughter. We'll take her every chance we get."

"Besides," Al added, "we only get to do it this once."

Grace's breath caught in her chest and she glanced at Loki, who remained impassive. He was more like Odin than he would ever admit; if he didn't want someone to know what he was thinking, they wouldn't. He had better control of his face than anyone she knew.

They had discussed how to tell her parents, but no real, concrete plan had been formed. Grace knew she didn't want to do a cheesy reveal on camera like so many posted online, but that was the extent of what little plan there was. Loki had said he would leave it to her to decide since they were her parents—hence his reaction, or lack thereof.

She didn't have nearly as much control over her emotions, though, because something about her mother's expression changed. It was now or never, she realized.

She felt Loki take her hand. "Yeah, about that…" she began.

"Very funny," Al said.

Vivian set her fork down and studied her daughter's face. She looked from Grace to Loki and back again. "Honey," she said, "are—are you serious?"

Grace and Loki looked at each other then, and neither of them could contain their smiles any longer. The last time Grace had delivered this news, it was in the aftermath of tragedy and it was alone. She loved Amy deeply, but if she could change the circumstances of her conception, she would. This time was different. This time, there was joy. This time, there was excitement.

This time, there was Loki.

Vivian leaped out of her chair so quickly that she nearly knocked it over. Al just sat for a moment, thrilled and shocked, before jumping up and pulling his daughter into a hug. Vivian rushed around the table and took Loki's face in her hands, kissing him on both cheeks.

"Congratulations, sweetie!" she exclaimed.

He smiled shyly, as he always did whenever she showed him affection. He took one of her hands and kissed it. "Thank you, Vivian." Then, while she crossed behind him to hug Grace, Loki looked to Al. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but I am glad to have proven you wrong."

Al laughed, extending his hand, which Loki shook firmly. "If there were ever a time for me to be wrong about something, I'm glad it's this! Mazel tov!"

"Actually, that was the reason we went to Asgard last weekend," Grace admitted. "We needed to, uh, get some answers."

"Oh! Yes, of course," Vivian said. "You know, sometimes I forget…" She trailed off, not wanting to be indelicate.

"It's all right," Loki replied. "Circumstances being what they are, we simply wanted to ensure that Grace could safely carry the child."

Al's eyes flashed for a second. "And I assume that won't be an issue?"

Loki smiled. As protective as Vivian was, he had a special appreciation for Al's quiet concern for his daughter. "It would seem that this pregnancy will be quite similar to any other. The symptoms may be slightly worse, but—"

"But the actual pregnancy will only be, like, six months. Well, more like four now," Grace finished.

"Four months!?" Vivian exclaimed.

"Well, the baby will be totally developed by then. It's just developing faster than—"

"What I mean is, how are we going to be _ready _in four months?"

It was almost as if Vivian had forgotten that Grace had been pregnant before. "Ma, I don't need a shower or anything. I still have all Amy's stuff, and even if it's a boy, most of her baby clothes were unisex anyway."

"Nonsense," Vivian replied. "Besides, I'm sure Loki's mother would love to attend, since she hasn't had the joy of grandchildren yet."

Grace waited for Loki to interject, certain he would assure her mother that Frigga wouldn't be interested in attending an earthly baby shower. But he sat silently, hands in prayer at his lips, contemplating.

"Loki?" she said, hoping he had merely tuned out.

"I suspect my mother would quite appreciate an invitation to such an event," he finally said. He caught the stunned expression on Grace's face and smiled. "What was it Al just said? At the rate my brother is going, she may only get to do this once."

* * *

"Is it true?"

"I don't know. I heard they returned very suddenly."

"One of Odin's servants said the Allfather himself attended the examination."

"I've never heard of a mortal having a child with a Jotun!"

"You'd have thought Thor and _his _mortal would have been first."

Ever since the younger of Odin's two sons had brought his human partner and little girl to Asgard, the entire city had been aflame with gossip. Whether it was about the child's father, the way Grace dressed, or the way Loki looked at her—so unlike he had looked at any Asgardian woman—it seemed that everyone had an opinion of their relationship. The consensus seemed to be that if the change in the prince's attitude and demeanor was due to Grace's presence in his life, then she had to be some kind of sorceress. She was at least more immediately accepted than had been Jane, although that was less a reflection on Jane and more a reflection of Thor's popularity with women. Any woman who earned the favor of the heir to the throne would have been secretly scorned by the women of Asgard.

Loki and Grace's sudden and brief visit to the palace had, however, not gone unnoticed. That they had been isolated for most of the trip, save for a visit to the healing room, only served to fuel the fire. No one seemed to know anything for certain, but that did not stop the servants from speculating.

There was, however, one servant who didn't feel the need to engage in the incessant discussion of the prince's love life. Dagmar heard much of it while attending to the queen's ladies-in-waiting; they seemed to have a particular interest, possibly due to being in the position of serving the queen herself. She was currently combing the delicate curls of Frigga's newest attendant, a young lady named Hillevi, from the northern part of the realm, where the wealthier citizens lived. There was to be a dinner that evening to celebrate the return of Asgard's warriors from Vanaheim, where peace had just been restored after a yearlong series of revolts, and Dagmar was to help the queen's ladies prepare. She gathered a large group of pins and began to weave Hillevi's golden curls into a thick braid.

"Well," Inger said, "perhaps Prince Loki simply wanted to accomplish something before his brother for once."

The women all laughed. "I'd bet all the gold in Odin's vault that the king and queen are less than thrilled," Ragna replied. "I'm sure they'd have preferred Thor and Sif give them a grandchild than Loki and his mortal peasant."

Dagmar couldn't take it anymore. She nearly slammed the comb onto the vanity. The other women got quiet. "Is something the matter, Dagmar?" Inger asked.

Dagmar knew she was overstepping a boundary but didn't much care in that moment. Anger palpable in her voice, she said, "You know nothing of the prince or Grace."

"And you do?" Hillevi asked, more with curiosity than disbelief.

"Dagmar was the mortal's attendant during her visits here," Ylva said. "And apparently now she no longer feels it necessary to address those above her with respect."

"Grace preferred that I not use a title to refer to her," Dagmar said with increasing irritation. She knew she could be banished from court for her impertinence, but it was only because of Grace that she was here at all. She could not abide the way these so-called "ladies" were talking about the prince's betrothed. "It is only because of Grace and Prince Loki that I am here to attend to you. They were and still are kinder to those 'beneath' them than any of you have been to them this evening. They are wonderful parents to their child and will be to—"

She cut herself short, realizing what she had just done. The four ladies stared at her, wide-eyed and slack jawed.

"So, it's true?" Hillevi asked, curiosity burning in her eyes.

"I—I didn't say—"

"But you might as well have," Ragna interjected. "How long?"

"Is it human?" Ylva asked.

"The better question is, is it _Jotun_?" Inger added.

Dagmar picked up the last of the hairpins and secured a curl to the updo on Hillevi's head. "I cannot say." She then turned to leave, the ladies-in-waiting still aghast. The door to the room was already open, so she shut it tightly behind her, thankful that no one had been outside to overhear.

* * *

The day after Grace and Loki told Grace's parents, they decided they should tell Amy so that she didn't accidentally overhear it from anyone else. So, after Grace got home from work that night, she, Loki, and Amy sat down on the living room floor. Grace always felt that sitting with Amy, on her level, made everything more comfortable—as if it were merely a conversation _with _her rather than two adults announcing something _at _her. Amy sat in Loki's lap, and Grace looked to him for encouragement. He nodded, and she clasped one of her daughter's tiny hands in her own.

"Mommy and Daddy have something to tell you, sweetie."

"Okay, Mommy," Amy replied, looking at Grace with inquisitive eyes.

"Well…you know how Little Paul is Chloe's younger brother?"

"Yes," Amy said. "He was in Aunt Stacy's tummy after Chloe."

Grace smiled warmly. "That's right! Just like I had you in my tummy."

"Chloe wanted a sister," Amy said.

Loki smiled. "But now she likes having a brother, doesn't she?"

"Yeah. They play princess and monster."

Grace laughed. "Well, what if I told you that I have a baby in my tummy now?"

Amy's eyes got very wide and she pointed at Grace's stomach. "A baby brother's in there?"

Loki ran a hand through her red ringlets. "Well, we don't know if it's a boy or a girl, sweetheart, but you'll either have a baby brother or a baby sister, yes."

Amy furrowed her brow and looked up at Loki. "Tomorrow?"

"Oh, no, sweetie," Grace replied, unconsciously putting a hand on her abdomen. "It will take a few months before it can come out. Babies have to grow first."

"How long did I grow?"

Loki was impressed but somehow unsurprised at the mature questions his daughter was asking. "You? You grew for nine months. But this baby will be here in October."

Amy looked down for a minute and had a profoundly serious expression on her face. Grace was momentarily worried that her daughter wasn't happy about this sudden change. But then, Amy looked back up, cocking her head—the way Grace did when she was contemplating something.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"If it's a sister, can we still play princess and monster?"

Both Grace and Loki burst out laughing, and Loki suddenly lifted Amy over his head as if she were an angel darting through the clouds. "You may play princess and monster with it no matter what it is," he said, "although I suspect I know who the princess will be."

Amy had a litany of other questions for them as the evening wore on. She wanted to know if it hurt to have a baby in your tummy (no, Grace had said), if Loki would have to do anything to make it come (only when it was about to be born, he told her), whether her grandma and grandpa "in space" would come visit it (of course, they both said), and, finally, what its name would be. For that, they realized they had no answer. And so it was that after they put Amy to bed that night, Grace looked at Loki over her mug of tea and said, "So, we should probably talk about names."

Loki settled next to her on the sofa, glass of wine in hand. He had originally decided to forego wine since Grace could not partake, but, as ever, she had insisted he not sacrifice his own desires for her comfort. She was headstrong, and there was no use arguing.

"Yes, perhaps we should," he said, "but do you think it necessary until we know whether it's a boy or a girl?"

"I mean, it's not _necessary, _but I think it might be good to at least have some ideas. Otherwise, we might not get around to it until it's born, and that's how kids end up with names like Apple."

He laughed. "A mortal actually named their child Apple? You must be joking."

"I couldn't make that up," she replied. "So…any ideas?"

"Hm," he mumbled. "Admittedly, I never gave such things consideration. I never imagined I would need to."

"I'm not surprised," she said as she stretched her back, twisting at the waist.

He set his glass down. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, just a little achy. My back doesn't like me sitting at my desk all day."

He took the tea from her hands and put it next to his wine. "Come," he said.

She reversed positions and lay back against his chest. His hands began working the tight muscles in her shoulders, expertly kneading the knots so that they gradually melted away. She closed her eyes, certain that she could fall asleep this way. "You know you aren't getting any tonight, right?"

He pushed her forward gently so that he could work his way down either side of her spine. "I assumed as much. I can see you are exhausted."

When he hit a particularly sore spot in the middle of her back and pushed on it gently to dissolve the tension, she groaned, "I love you."

He smiled, as satisfied as he would have been had they made love. "I love you, too."

They sat in silence for a bit as Loki continued to massage away the tension in Grace's lower back. Then, she cleared her throat. "Loki."

"Yes, love?"

"Oh, no, sorry," she replied. "I was just thinking of names. What about yours?"

He made a face, although she could not see. "Absolutely not. I would sooner name it Thor."

"Damn, that's intense! What's so bad about your name?"

He hesitated. "Well, I would prefer to reserve my name for our more…intimate moments."

She laughed quietly. "Point taken."

"What about Siri?" he suggested. "It means 'marvelous victory.'"

"It also means 'Goddess of iPhones.'"

"I'm sorry?"

"Nevermind," she said, gasping slightly as he moved his hands toward her tailbone. "Loki?"

"Oh, please don't try to talk me into—"

She laughed. "Sorry. This time I actually am asking you something."

"You are maddening," he replied, nipping at her neck. "What is it?"

"Is there any way you could somehow show me what you looked like as a little boy?"

He stopped his ministrations on her neck and leaned over her shoulder. "Why do you—"

She turned her head to meet his gaze. "Because you know what I looked like. And our children will have baby photos. I want to know what my future husband looked like—what this child's father looked like—when he was little."

He lowered his eyes and nodded. "I suppose that is reasonable."

Then, he shifted away from her and closed his eyes, summoning a vision from his past, a memory he could conjure for her. Coming up with something happy was a bit of a struggle; most of his memories had to do with his tagging along with Thor and his friends but never quite fitting in. But then he thought about someone else, the one person in Asgard who never made him feel out of place.

Suddenly, before Grace's eyes, a vision appeared, slightly hazy and tinted a greenish color, like a flashback in a movie. As it came into focus, she could see Frigga, almost exactly as she appeared a few days ago with slightly darker hair. She was seated on the edge of a fountain inside the palace, holding her hands in front of her, palms toward the ceiling. Then, a small, raven-haired boy faded into the picture, seated at Frigga's feet. His green eyes sparkled with wonder as Frigga conjured the same bird as she had for Amy.

Grace was enraptured by the scene playing out in front of her—an eight-year-old-looking Loki, dressed in a hunter green tunic and brown slacks, watching his mother turn the bird in her hands. Then, she took one of his and said something to him. He nodded and concentrated on the bird, and after a minute, it moved from her palm to his. The light in his eyes was unmistakable; it wasn't just that he had performed this trick. It was that he was elated at having done something that Thor could not. Something that was his, and his only. Something that had made his mother proud.

Without even realizing it, Grace reached over and took his hand. He glanced at her, watching the smile spread across her face. He hadn't realized how happy it would make her to see him as a boy. Truthfully, he had forgotten how he'd looked; he could view his memories in this manner any time he wanted, but he had long since decided not to revisit his boyhood. He had so few good memories. But this was certainly one of them.

As the vision slowly faded away, Grace's trance broke, and she turned to look at him, tears in her eyes. "That was amazing."

"That was the first spell my mother ever taught me," he finally said. "Perhaps that explains why she showed it to Amy."

"And why _you _did, too," Grace added. "You know you're a good father, right?"

He ducked his head. "I hope that is the case. I have tried to be."

She took his face gently in her hands. "You _have _been. And I know that—oh—ooooh—" She put her hand on her abdomen and pushed away from him.

His eyes went wide. "What is it, my love?"

"It's just—just that really cold feeling, very suddenly," she replied. Then, she got a curious look on her face. "Maybe—maybe the baby responds to you."

Loki smiled. "Do you think it can hear me?"

She returned his smile and put his hand on the small bump. "I know so. Say something. You'll see." He looked briefly uncomfortable, like he didn't know how to do this very simple thing she was asking him to do. Suddenly, she got an idea that would kill two birds with a single stone. "Tell him something about yourself."

His head jerked up. "Him?"

"Him," she repeated. "I think it's a boy."

"Why do you think that?"

She shrugged and pulled the mass of waves off her shoulders and into a messy bun on top of her head. "I can't really explain it. I knew Amy was going to be a girl before I ever had an ultrasound, though."

He squinted at her, a skeptical smirk on his face. "Well, considering you had a fifty percent chance of being right—" She smacked him on the arm. "Ow! Okay. Point taken. I surrender."

"That's better," she said. "Anyway, I knew she was a girl because I just…I mean, I think maybe she was a girl because I wanted her to be a girl."

"That doesn't necessarily sound so implausible when you consider the fact that you are currently carrying a child that is half Jotun," he replied. "Maybe the Norns heard your wishes."

She let out a whisper of a laugh. "Maybe. Regardless, I just have a feeling." She hesitated. "Do you want a boy or a girl?"

He looked as though he was considering this for the first time. "So long as it is healthy—"

Grace shook her head. "Don't give me that. I may not have had a man around for my last pregnancy, but I know that every father-to-be lies with that answer. So, my dear trickster god, be honest with me. What do you want?"

He bit his bottom lip and played with the hem of her t-shirt, barely riding up over the small swell of her belly. "I do not wish to seem like a typical Asgardian brute who wishes to sire an heir, but I must confess there is something about the idea of a son…" He lowered his eyes so that she could not see them, as though he was embarrassed by his thoughts.

She could tell he was holding something else back. "Loki Laufeyson, what are you not telling me?"

He sighed. "Please do not think me heartless when I say this."

"Nothing you could say would make me think that."

"I would prefer that Amy be my only daughter," he said, as quickly as if he were ripping off a bandage. "I know what it is to be the younger sibling, to feel as though you are living in the shadow of the favored child, and—"

"Loki, you would never treat our children that way," Grace said, concern clouding the sky of her eyes. "I know you, and I know that—"

He nodded. "I know that I would not intend to. But I have lived this, Grace. I always wondered how different my life might have been had I been a daughter instead of a son."

She considered this for a moment, and then tilted her head. "You know, I bet that if you asked your father, he'd tell you that he would do things differently if he had the chance for a do-over."

Loki laughed sadly. "My father will never admit to that."

Grace moved back to lay against his chest again. She wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned her head back on his shoulder. "That may be," she murmured, her voice as soothing to him as his mother's. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't think it."

* * *

A lanky, flat-faced figure moved to kneel in front of a floating throne that was cloaked in a force field of darkness. Thanos, the enormous, purple-skinned Titan seated on the throne, nodded acknowledgment, and the figure rose to his feet.

"What have you learned?" Thanos asked in a voice as deep and cold as space.

"Sire," Ebony Maw replied, "we have located him."

"Is he on Asgard?"

"No, Sire. He is on Earth."

Thanos furrowed his great brow. "They left him there?"

Maw shook his wrinkled head. "He has chosen to remain there."

"Do we know why?"

Once again, Maw shook his head. "No, Sire. But, if I may, we do not need the Asgardian to accomplish your plan. His powers are—"

"We may not need him," Thanos said, "but his powers are considerable, even in failure. We would do well to keep him with the Order."

"But Sire—"

Thanos' eyes flared with anger. "Enough!" he yelled, and Maw immediately knelt again in deference, his face lowered toward the ground.

"Forgive me, Sire."

With a wave of his hand, Thanos permitted Maw to rise again. "If we can get Loki to rejoin us, we may be able to use him to obtain the Tesseract. If he is permitted to return to Asgard as he pleases, and the Tesseract is there…" He hummed thoughtfully and rose from the throne, pacing back and forth in front of it. "Have you located the scepter?"

"That may be obtainable. The mortals are holding it in a location they believe is secure, but it would be easily penetrable by our forces."

Thanos turned to the throne, his back toward Maw. "Perhaps we can use the scepter to manipulate his mind as we did before."

Maw hesitated to contradict his master, but felt he had no choice. "Attempting to do that would be an exercise in futility," he said. "I believe that because he was under its influence once, he would now be immune to it, and possibly all other mind control."

Thanos whipped back around. "Well, there must be some way—"

Just then, one of the Chitauri approached the throne and knelt, then turned to Maw. While Thanos looked on, the Chitauri whispered something that seemed to confuse, then please his adopted son. "Yes. All right. Yes. Go." Maw turned back to his master. "Sire, a source in Asgard has sent news."

"Which one?" Thanos asked. "As I recall, we have several spies."

"A palace guard, Sire," Maw explained. "He overheard a conversation amongst the queen's ladies-in-waiting. It appears that the prince has been betrothed."

"And this concerns me how?"

Maw steepled his fingers. "His beloved is a mortal. And she is with child."

It took a moment to sink in. But once it did, Thanos sank back onto his throne and glanced at the gauntlet on his arm.

"Well," he mused, "I believe we may have found our way around immunity."


	8. The Sweetest Gift

**A/N: **OMG it has been a hot minute. I'm so sorry about that. Studying for the bar exam (again) but I really wanted to get you guys a new chapter because you've been so wonderful and patient. This chapter was originally supposed to show Grace's baby shower, and I was going to write a whole scene with it in there, but I felt like I could better use the chapter to do other things. Instead, I developed the relationships between Vivian and Frigga and Loki and Amy, dealt with Grace's fears about becoming a parent again, and brought in a bit of foreshadowing at the end. The chapter really is about the relationships between parents and children, and parents with other parents. The song I've chosen reflects that, too - even when we grow up, our parents are still our parents, and it doesn't matter if we're adopted or not. The feelings are the same.

Also, it occurred to me that in the original story, Loki was the one afraid of parenting and Grace seemed so sure; this time, it's reversed. It's an interesting dynamic to play with. Maybe some of that fear is my own, too - I just became an aunt for the first time in June, and it's not nearly as scary as parenting but it's still nervewracking to worry about screwing up somehow. So now I have a taste of how Loki felt when he was first getting to know Amy. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter, and I hope I don't take as long getting the next one out. Things are about to start getting WILD.

**Comments are so appreciated and make me squee - I love hearing from you guys! :)**

**Song: **"Child of Mine" by Carole King

* * *

"All right, honey, is there anyone else you want to invite?"

Vivian passed Grace the list of guests for the baby shower, which had climbed to thirty since the previous weekend's planning session. Grace scanned the names, considering—not for the first time—canceling the entire event.

"Ma, who the hell is Marlene Archer?" she asked.

"She's one of the women in my yoga class."

"Okay," Grace replied, "I know you think this should be obvious, but why is someone I've never met invited to my baby shower?"

"Because I have had to listen to Marlene brag about her son-in-law, the thoracic surgeon, for three years!" Vivian exclaimed. "It's about time she meets _my_ future son-in-law, the prince!"

Grace's eyes widened in horror. "Ma!"

Vivian started laughing. "Relax, honey! I'm kidding. At least about the prince part. But Loki is better looking than her son-in-law, _and _actually spends time with his child."

"Yes, and that is what he's going to be doing the day of the shower." Grace refilled her mother's coffee mug and inhaled the scent deep into her lungs. "God, I miss caffeine. As soon as this kid is born, I'm going to need someone to bring me the biggest latte they can find. If I drink any more herbal tea, I might actually turn into a tea leaf."

"That sounds like something I might have done to my brother." Loki's impish voice filled the apartment as he pushed the apartment door open with his shoulder, balancing two grocery bags in his arms.

"I'm surprised you _didn't _do that to him," Grace replied, hurrying to the door to help him.

"Grace, my love, you shouldn't—"

He didn't get more than those words out before she grabbed a bag from his arms with the slightest roll of her eyes. Ever since she had started showing, Loki had been trying to keep her from doing anything he deemed too physically exhausting. She knew he was trying to be supportive and helpful, but she wished he would dial it back a bit. Many women would have loved to have a partner who waited on them hand and foot, but Grace wasn't one of them. She just didn't know how to tell _him _that.

"How was work?" she asked, trying to distract herself.

He set the bag he was still holding onto the counter and kissed Grace's mother on her cheek, murmuring a quick greeting to her. "It was as it usually is. That is to say, quiet but busy. How have you ladies spent your afternoon?"

Vivian motioned to the guest list, still on the counter. "Trying to figure out how to get an invitation to a completely different planet," she said. "Speaking of which, is there anyone else we should invite from your side?"

Loki was slightly taken aback. He hadn't even known what a baby shower was until a few months ago, and he certainly didn't know anyone on Asgard who he would want to invite to such an event, other than his mother. It suddenly struck him that he had a wider social circle on Earth than he ever had on Asgard.

"I cannot think of anyone," he said.

With that, Vivian stood up and began to collect her belongings. "Okay then. All we need to do is finalize a date and then I can get these sent out. Can I assume you have a way to get one to your mother? Some kind of otherworldly delivery service?"

He suppressed a laugh. If only she knew that Heimdall was probably already sending word to Frigga via a servant—

Suddenly, something occurred to him. "Actually, I have only just realized there is someone who should be added to your list."

That was news to Grace; other than Frigga, she didn't have the slightest idea who he would have in mind. Maybe Frigga had a sister Grace wasn't aware of?

Vivian took the list out of her planner and clicked her pen, looking at Loki expectantly. "Go ahead."

"I'm afraid I do not know her family name, but her given name is Dagmar," he said. "She works in the palace. I am certain I can get word to her, as she works with my mother's ladies."

Grace smiled broadly. Just a few months, Loki couldn't even remember Dagmar's name, and now he was thoughtful enough to invite her to attend what was, technically, a royal baby's shower.

"Perfect," Vivian said. "I'll just hold onto their invitations until the shower, and they can have them as keepsakes." She pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up onto her nose. "Grace, honey, let me know when you decide on a date."

"I'm just waiting to hear back from Leah about when she and Ian are going to be in Africa."

"Let me guess," Vivian laughed. "Ian's turn to pick the vacation destination?"

Grace shrugged. "I mean, _I'd _like that trip, but Leah is much more of an…indoor girl." Loki filed this information away for later use.

"Well, at any rate, keep me posted," Vivian replied. "We don't have as much time as we did last go around."

Grace walked her mother to the door. "We have plenty of time. It's not like we don't already have all the things we need anyway."

"I know, but—"

"Ma, you're being a nudzh!" Grace laughed. "It'll be fine, I promise. I'll call Leah tomorrow."

Vivian kissed her on the cheek and blew a kiss to Loki, who was, by then, making tea. After she shut the door, Grace let out a sigh of relief. Loki handed her a mug, the strong scent of peppermint wafting out of it.

"She only means to be helpful," he said.

Grace sank onto the sofa, absently pulling her auburn waves into a ponytail. "I know. It's just…"

He sat down next to her. "What is it?"

She stared into her mug, as if it held the answer. "I feel guilty for even saying this, but I don't even want this baby shower."

He tilted his head. "So why not simply tell her that?"

She was surprised, thinking he would have tried to change her mind. "It isn't as simple as that. My mom has been looking forward to this for years."

"Did you not just say that you had a shower for Amy's birth?"

She nodded. "I did. I mean, we did. But, I mean, the circumstances surrounding my pregnancy…" She trailed off but she didn't need to say anything more.

"I see," he said thoughtfully. "Well, would you simply prefer a smaller party? Or none at all?"

She realized she didn't really have a response to that. It was hard for her to imagine telling her mother that she didn't want another baby shower, especially now that she had seen how excited Vivian was. But there was a small part of her that wished anyone had asked her opinion about any of this before the train left the station.

"I guess I'm just not really comfortable being the center of attention. I mean, you saw it when I met your family. I knew everyone was staring, and it was really hard to enjoy myself because of it." She shook her head as if to clear the thoughts from it. "What's wrong with me? What kind of woman _doesn't _want a baby shower?"

He drew her into his arms and felt her relax against his chest. The familiar scent of cotton candy brought him back to the first time he had been close enough to smell it—the day he asked him to live with her. At the time, he had said he couldn't substitute for Amy's father. Now, two years later, he wasn't _just_ Amy's father; he was about to be Grace's husband and have a child he helped create. She had given him all this, and he just wanted her to be happy.

"I think," he began, tracing circles on her back with his fingertips, "that, as the person who is tasked with carrying this child, you are in the best position to decide whether or not you want this party."

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, Loki, what am I going to do? Just not show up?"

"I suppose that isn't an option," he said, although Grace wasn't entirely sure it wasn't a question. "Would it help at all if I attended with you?"

She let out a quiet laugh. "No. Just make an appearance so that my mom can have bragging rights. Besides, isn't that when you were going to take Amy for a little father-daughter time?"

"'Twas," he said, "but if my being present at this event would make it easier—"

"Seriously, honey, it's okay." She sat up and stifled a yawn; she was more tired the last three weeks than she had been during all nine months of her last pregnancy. Loki, however, noticed the catch in her breath.

"Perhaps a nap would do you some good," he suggested. "It might give you some clarity on the issue."

She checked her watch. "I can't. I have to get Amy up from _her _nap and make dinner, and then—"

He took her gently by the arm. "I can do those things."

She rubbed her eyes and felt another yawn creeping into her throat. "I still have work to do…"

"I am certain that Tom will understand the situation. After all, he was the one who suggested you work from home, was he not?"

That much was true. Soon after they had returned from Asgard, she had informed her boss and the human resources department about the pregnancy. True to form, Tom had been happy for her, although he did crack a self-deprecating joke about how this would really be her third child because _he_ was her second. She had rolled her eyes and tried to start assuring him that nothing would change; after all, she had worked all the way up until Amy was born. But Tom was different than her previous boss. For all his politically incorrect humor and sarcasm, he was incredibly supportive and did everything he could to help make her life easier, including letting her work from home part-time while keeping her health insurance.

He was, in fact, very much like Loki.

She rolled her shoulders and took her hair down; it was too heavy to keep pulled back for very long. Whether it was the prenatal vitamins or the pregnancy itself, her hair seemed to be growing at twice the rate as it usually did. As though reading her mind, Loki smoothed it away from her shoulders and she shivered at his fingers as they grazed her neck.

"Maybe you're right," she finally said, resigned to her exhaustion. "Okay. Amy has to be up in no more than twenty minutes, or she won't sleep tonight. And the chicken is ready in the fridge. It just needs to go into the oven at—"

He cut her off with a gentle kiss. "My dear, I am quite sure I can handle dinner. After all, I impressed your mother with my breadmaking talents."

She rolled her eyes but laughed. "Are you ever going to let that go?"

Slowly, she got to her feet and stretched, her eggplant-hued shirt rising just enough to reveal the bottom of her abdomen. Loki couldn't resist; he reached out and placed his hands on either side of her stomach. Her skin was cold, as it so often was by that point in the pregnancy. He turned his eyes toward hers, as if seeking approval, which she gave in the form of a contented smile.

"My sweet little one," he murmured against the swell of her belly, "let your mother get some rest. She's got to have her strength for the party your grandmother is planning."

Grace put her hands over his. "Don't scare the poor kid before he even gets here. You saw Amy's first birthday, but that'll seem downright laid back compared to the insanity that will be this shower."

He planted a kiss on her stomach and let her squeeze past him. "I'm sure it will—wait, have you already decided, then?"

She gazed across the room, over his shoulder, at a photo of her mother and Amy, taken at the park just before Grace had met him. "Well, I guess I was just thinking…before you came along to make dinner and take care of Amy, it was mostly my mom who…" She swallowed hard. "If not for her, I don't know what I'd have done. So, I can do this for her."

Without another word, but with a tired smile, she drifted off to the bedroom, a hand cradling her belly.

Loki collected the tea mugs and took them to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and took the chicken out to put in the oven, considering Grace the whole time. One of the things he loved most about her—in fact, the thing that had caused him to love her from the start—was her innate selflessness. It wasn't that she was a pushover, or that she was without any selfish tendencies. But if, on balance, someone else's joy would outweigh her inconvenience, she would usually put their needs first. It was how he had come to live with her in the first place. So, it didn't surprise him at all that she had, in the time it took for him to convince her to take a nap, decided to allow the party to go forward for Vivian's sake.

At the same time, however, he felt a great pang in his heart as he tried to remember the last time that he had made such a gesture for his own mother. She had not only nurtured him but had taught him to harness the very magic he later used to inflict pain on others in order to obtain his selfish desires. Although he had done all he could think to make amends for the damage he had caused on Earth, he had not until that moment considered the specific pain that he had caused Frigga. Maybe he had been so focused on repairing the brokenness between himself and his father and brother that it never occurred to him that his kind, forgiving mother might have also been hurt by the havoc he had wreaked.

Frigga had given him life in every way that counted, and, in his estimation, he had given her nothing in return.

Before he could further contemplate the situation with his mother, however, a tiny figure emerged from the hallway, carrying her favorite doll. "Daddy?"

Of all the names he had ever been called, that was the one he never got tired of hearing. He walked around the counter and knelt in front of her. "Weren't you in your crib?" he asked, smoothing her curls away from her forehead.

She nodded and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. "I woke up."

"I can see that. How did you get out?"

The look on her face was so like one of his own that anyone who didn't know better would never know she wasn't his biological child.

"Magic," she said, as though it should have been obvious.

He chuckled and lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her tiny hands around his neck and gently tugged at the ends of his hair. It was a habit she picked up as an infant, especially when she was just coming out of sleep's gentle grasp.

"Well, then," he said with a smile, "I suppose your mother and I should transform your crib into a bed, should we not?"

* * *

Before she knew it, the day of Grace's baby shower arrived. And she was a wreck.

The pregnancy had been more exhausting than any other physical condition she had ever experienced. As Leea had warned when she concluded Grace's examination, all the symptoms were ten times worse than they had been at the same point in her last pregnancy. She was constantly tired, her feet swelled so much that she had to buy new shoes, everything she ate seemed to give her heartburn, and, worst of all, her breasts were so tender that any touch, no matter how light, would make her wince in pain.

And those were the good days; there were a few every other week or so when she could barely get out of bed. When that happened, Vivian would take Amy and Grace would work from the bedroom until her brain fogged over and she couldn't fight sleep any longer.

Those were the days that both amazed and frightened Loki; amazed by Grace's strength—a strength that, even as a demigod, he could never have—and frightened by what the pregnancy was doing to her. She always insisted she was fine, but he knew her too well. Even if she were in agony, she would never admit it. Sometimes, he secretly wished she would allow herself to break apart so that he could try to take some of the emotional burden.

Failing that, he determined to do what he could to make her more physically comfortable. He brought her tea and ordered delivery and did the grocery shopping using lists she made for him. He dropped off and picked up work materials at her office and gave her back massages every chance he got. But no matter how much he could and would do, he could not attend the baby shower in her stead. The most he could do was what was asked of him: appear with Grace at the party before venturing out with Amy for an afternoon of father-daughter time. It was extremely important to both Grace and Loki that Amy be reminded that she was still loved. So, while Grace celebrated their growing family, Loki would tend to the center of it.

"Are you almost ready, love?" he called from the kitchen. "We need to meet my mother and Dagmar before—"

Suddenly, he heard a familiar scream and a frustrated groan, followed by a flurry of red curls running through the living room. Grace burst forth from the hallway, holding Amy's shorts, the look on her face somewhere between angry and exhausted.

"Amy! Come here! Now!" she said, a sharp tone in her voice that Loki rarely heard her use, especially with their daughter. Unfortunately, Amy's response was to run and hide behind the chair-and-a-half in the corner of the room, where the only way to retrieve her would be to move the entire thing.

Grace turned to Loki, and before she could say anything, he was already heading toward the chair. Slowly, he lowered himself down onto the cushions and peered over the back of it. Keeping his voice low and even, he asked, "Amy, what's the matter?"

She was hunched in the space between the chair and the wall, arms wrapped around her knees. Her face was scrunched in childish anger, but it was all he could do to contain his smile. She looked up at him with saucer eyes. "I don't want Mommy to go!"

"May I ask why?"

"I want her to stay here."

_Obviously, _Loki thought, but he knew that he could not reason with an angry two-year-old, nor was he going to get any further explanation out of her. The most he could hope for would be distraction.

"Well, Mommy has to go to a special party," he said, "but if you want, you and I can go say goodbye to her there, and then we can do anything you want."

Amy looked down at her tiny fingernails, apparently considering the idea. When she looked back up, she squinted at him, as though he was trying to trick her.

"Can we have ice cream?"

Loki smiled and leaned down toward her. "With sprinkles," he whispered conspiratorially. "Now, can you come out and let Mommy keep getting you dressed?"

She bit her lower lip but nodded. "Okay, Daddy."

She allowed Loki to lift her out of her hiding space, but when he turned to put her down, he saw that Grace was gone. Confused though he was, he attended to the task at hand. He managed to get Amy into the tiny denim shorts that had been left on the couch, one leg at a time, and then handed her a book.

"Can you sit quietly for a few minutes, sweetheart?" he asked, but she was already so engrossed in The Story of Ferdinand that she didn't even acknowledge him.

Satisfied that she would be entertained for the time being, Loki set off for the bedroom, only to find it empty. He turned and was about to knock on the bathroom door when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door to the spare room open just a crack. He pushed it open and found Grace sitting on the bed—the bed that was his before she had brought him into hers. She had her back to him, but he could see her shoulders shaking, head bowed.

"Grace?" he whispered. "What happened?"

"I'm—I'll be fine," she lied.

He walked around the bed to sit next to her. "Amy is dressed. If we can pry her away from Ferdinand, we may still make the party."

He offered her a small smile, but she didn't return it. After a few uncomfortably silent moments, she said, "Do you remember the night of Amy's first birthday party when she started crying while I was in the shower?"

He ran a hand over the quilt. "I was, as I recall, laying in this very bed."

"Well, when I found you, you were in the nursery, holding her and singing."

"I have never forgotten that," he said, "and even if I could, Heimdall would remind me. I'm quite sure he found it highly amusing."

She did manage a smile that time and wiped at her eyes with her fingertips. "You were so good with her. I'd never seen anyone besides my mom be able to calm her down that fast." She hesitated, and then glanced at him, aware that he was looking at her quite intently. "I fell in love with you that night, because I knew you loved her."

His breath caught in his chest. "You have never told me that."

"You never asked."

"Fair."

When he didn't say anything else, she continued, "I was so happy that you loved her so much. I was happy to have a partner."

Suddenly, a frightening thought overtook him. "Grace," he began, "I notice—that is, I—you keep using the past tense."

Her head jerked up. "What?"

His heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his throat. "You said you _were _happy to have me as a partner. Does that mean—"

Her eyes widened and her voice rose to almost a squeak. "Oh, no, no, no, Loki. No. Never," she cried. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

He let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. At least she hadn't changed her mind. But then, what was troubling her?

"What I was trying to say," she continued, "is that I love that Amy loves you so much. I love that you love _her _so much. But sometimes, I worry…"

"You worry what?"

Her eyes flashed a bright blue and he saw frustration rising in the color of her cheeks. "She fought me for fifteen minutes over those fucking shorts! And then she hides in a place she knows I can't get to her because of this"—she gestured to her burgeoning stomach—"and somehow in, like, thirty seconds, you get her to come out _and _put on her pants."

She buried her head in her hands and started crying again. He didn't know what to do. He thought about all the times he wished she would let him see her emotional pain, and now he was regretting it. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he hated seeing her like this.

"What can I do?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, but since her face was in her hands, he couldn't be sure which it was. When she removed them, she shook her head, scolding herself as she had when she'd debated canceling the shower.

"I'm sorry, Loki," she said. "I think it's just the hormones."

"Something else is going on here that has nothing to do with hormones." He kept his eyes soft but penetrating and, after a few moments, she finally returned his gaze.

"You'll think I'm being stupid."

He shook his head. "I could never think that of you. I reserve that word for those who deserve it. Like my dear brother, or Stark."

She snorted. "Okay. But promise me you won't—"

"Grace, please, just tell me."

"It's just…if you're a better parent to Amy, then what's going to happen when we have a baby that biologically belongs to you? If I can't be as good a parent to a human child as you are, then how will I be able to—how can I hope to be a good parent to one that's only half-human?" The words sounded even more ridiculous out loud than they did in her head and she sighed. "I'm sorry. I know that's not fair."

"Please stop apologizing," he said. He wasn't angry in the least, but his heart ached at the suggestion that she thought he was a better parent than she was. "It is true that I have a relationship with Amy that you do not, but it pales in comparison to the one you have with her."

"I know, I know. I just meant—"

"And may I remind you," he continued, ignoring her attempt at protesting, "that you carried her, gave birth to her, and raised her without me for almost a year. The only reason I know how to dress her at all is because you are a wonderful mother who was willing to teach me how. And _neither _of us knows what is coming with this child, but if we are lost, we will be lost together."

Grace gazed into his seafoam eyes, sparkling with affection for her. He was such a different man than he was when she first met him. He had become so human that she often forgot that he _wasn't _human.

"I love you so much," she finally said. "I know you're trying to help. I just wish you weren't so good at it all the time."

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "If you want me to be less perfect, I could skip the party." His smirk said he was kidding, but she wasn't taking any chances.

"Oh, please," she said with a smile. "The biggest _advantage_ of you being perfect is that I get to make all the other women in the world jealous."

* * *

Before they could go to Grace's synagogue, where the party was to be held, they had to stop at a nearby park to meet Frigga and Dagmar. Amy was, as always, mesmerized by the Bifrost's light, and squealed with delight when she saw her paternal grandmother. To Grace's relief, both Frigga and Dagmar had dressed in "normal" clothes, as Thor did when he visited. Dagmar had shortened her floor-length, toga-style Asgardian gown to her knees and had put her dark hair into a low chignon.

Frigga's outfit, on the other hand, was something Vivian might have worn; both Grace and Loki were surprised to see her in a champagne-colored pant suit. When she saw their expressions, she simply explained that it was a special occasion. Grace was especially amused by this, but not entirely shocked—when dresses were the norm, it made sense that pants would be "dressing up."

They arrived at the synagogue a short time later, and after introductions were made and Vivian had gushed over her soon-to-be son-in-law in front of all her friends, Loki and Amy said goodbye and left to have a party of their own.

"Well, my love," he said as they walked toward the subway, "what shall we do today?"

Amy tightened her grip on Loki's hand. "You said ice cream!"

He grinned. "And to think your mother doesn't see her effect on you," he said under his breath, hearing Grace's excited squeal in his daughter's voice. "Ice cream it is!"

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on a park bench, each of them eating the same thing—chocolate ice cream with the rainbow sprinkles he had promised her—when Amy looked up at him. "Daddy?"

"Yes, love?"

"When do I get to meet the baby?"

He shrugged. "Well, we do not know for sure, but we think by the end of October. Not long from now."

Amy took another lick of her ice cream and then said, "What happens when the baby gets here?"

Loki wasn't entirely sure what she meant. He knew enough about human biology to explain, but he did not know how to do it in a way that she would understand at her age. "I—well—when the baby is ready to be born—"

She shook her head, loosening the pigtails Grace had tied them into. "Does the baby get my room?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. This, he could handle. "No, sweetheart, of course not. The baby will go in the room next to yours."

She took another bite of her ice cream and got some on her tiny nose. "Did you and Uncle Thor share a room when you came out of grandma's tummy?"

He winced slightly. Neither he nor Grace had ever thought to tell Amy about his being adopted. Oddly, they also hadn't discussed whether or when to tell her about her own parentage. After all, Loki was the only father she had ever known. Besides, she was too young to begin to comprehend the circumstances.

Then again, when he learned of his own adoption, all those years of being deceived had contributed to his undoing. Was it the right choice to hide it? He knew, of course, that Odin had done it partly for political reasons. And what of his mother? Had she genuinely believed it to be the right decision, or had she simply gone along with what Odin asked of her, as his queen?

But perhaps there was something more that went into their choice. Perhaps they truly had wanted to protect him, so that he would never feel different, even if it hadn't worked. Slowly, he began to understand the difficulty of Odin and Frigga's decision. In fact, since becoming a parent, he had begun to understand more about his own mother and father than he ever thought possible.

He decided to split the difference. After quickly finishing his ice cream, he lifted Amy onto his lap and wiped the chocolate from her nose with a brush of his thumb. But her expectant face made him realize that he had no idea how to explain this after all. He suddenly wished he had waited for Grace to be there. Unfortunately, he had no choice now.

"Well," he started, "the truth is, I didn't come out of your grandma's tummy. Uncle Thor and I have different parents." She didn't say anything, so he continued. "Uncle Thor's parents are the grandparents you met up in space."

Amy was looking at him curiously now. "What happened to _your _mommy and daddy?"

He was now _very _much regretting having started this conversation and shifted uncomfortably on the bench. How could he explain Laufey in any way that would make sense but also not terrify her? And as for his birth mother, well, he didn't even know who she was. Laufey had so many concubines that it could have been any Jotun woman.

While trying to figure out a way to explain everything, he looked around at the other children and their parents. They all seemed so happy and natural; no one would know whether any of the children had been adopted. Whether they were playing tag, reading under a tree, or eating ice cream, the only thing that mattered was who raised them, not whose blood they shared.

"I never knew them," he said, and, strangely, did not feel like he was lying. "I suppose Uncle Thor and I do have the same parents after all. It's just that they chose to be my parents after I was already born. Does that make sense to you?"

Amy nodded, the fingers on her free hand playing over one of his, tracing his veins like roads on a map. "Is it like Marco and his mommy on Sesame Street?"

He internally thanked Grace's parents for introducing Amy to the Midgardian children's show, as well as whomever thought it would be a good idea to introduce a child who was adopted into its world.

"Yes," he said with a smile. "It is precisely like that."

She looked back up at him with an exasperated expression and spoke in a tone to match. "You didn't answer my _question, _Daddy!"

"I'm sorry, darling. What was it again?"

With the same frustrated tone, she repeated, "Did you have to share a room?"

He started laughing. It didn't matter to Amy whether Odin and Loki shared the same blood, or whether Loki knew where his biological father was. She just wanted to know if she was going to have to share a room with the brother or sister she didn't yet know. Sometimes there was more wisdom to be found in a child's mind than anyone realized.

"Your uncle and I had our own rooms," he replied, kissing her forehead. "But I did occasionally sneak into his."

Her face relaxed back into its normal, slightly curious expression. "Why?"

Loki smirked, remembering the times he would hide under his brother's bed and jump out in the form of a giant wolf or spider. "Just to visit," he replied.

Amy finished her ice cream cone and Loki wiped her face and hands with her napkin. "Thank you for my ice cream, Daddy," she said.

"Oh, you're welcome, my love." He lifted her off his lap and stood up, brushing his hands off. "Now, what shall we do next?"

"Can we go to the library? Please?" She looked hopeful, like she thought he might say no. Of all the things she could ask to do—play on the swings, in the sandbox, with the other children—she wanted to go to the place Loki loved most.

"Of course," he replied, taking her hand again, and he felt his heart swell. Amy Lawson might not have shared his blood or his name, but she was still his, in all the ways that truly mattered.

* * *

"I really can't tell you how wonderful it was to have you come. Grace has spoken so highly of you," Vivian said to Frigga as they sat in her apartment enjoying a cup of tea after the shower. Dagmar had returned to Asgard at the request of one of the members of Frigga's court, and Grace, having been exhausted by the party, excused herself for a nap.

Frigga smiled warmly. "Likewise. Grace is quite a unique and kind young woman."

"We did our best," Vivian replied. "She was a bit of a challenge at times, but then, aren't all children at some point?"

Frigga nodded. "Some more than others, as I'm sure you know…" She cast her eyes downward for a moment, as though she didn't want to acknowledge what she had implied. But Vivian simply shrugged and placed a hand on top of Frigga's.

"The only Loki I know is the Loki who has made my daughter happy."

"Thank you for that. And thank you again for having me here today. I do hope that Grace was pleased with the gift."

Vivian's eyebrows shot toward her hairline. "Are you kidding? It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. Frigga and Dagmar had brought a beautiful painting of Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life, to hang in the baby's nursery. After the shower ended, Dagmar had explained to Grace and Vivian that the painting had been enchanted; as Loki and Grace's child grew, the painting would become more intricate. It was intended to symbolize the connection the baby had with both Midgard and Asgard.

"I am glad to hear it," Frigga said. "I was concerned when she began to cry."

"Oh," Vivian laughed, "that's just Grace's way. She cries at everything. Always has, since she was a little girl." Then, a thought occurred to her. "Do women have baby showers where you're from?"

Frigga shook her head. "No, but I quite wish we did. It was a lovely experience."

"How _do_ you celebrate births, then?"

"Well, as you can imagine, the way our sons were celebrated is quite different from the way most of Asgard's citizens would celebrate the birth of their children…"

Vivian hesitated for a minute but then the realization hit her. "Oh, of course. I sometimes forget. It's just that I only know him as—"

This time, Frigga patted Vivian's hand. "Oh, please don't apologize. If I am being honest, lately, I often forget my son is a prince as well. Your daughter, it seems, has made him human." When Vivian's rosy complexion went white, Frigga leaned forward warmly. "That was intended as a compliment."

Vivian visibly relaxed. "Well, as I said, Loki has been wonderful for her, and for Amy. Why do you think I wanted him to stop by the party? He's everything I could want in a son-in-law, and I wanted all of my friends to see that."

Frigga's eyes sparkled. "I will admit that I never imagined Loki having a family of his own, and now…well, let's just say that his father and I are quite excited."

Vivian stood up from the table and started to take Frigga's empty cup. "More tea?" But Frigga stood as well and stopped her.

"Please. Allow me."

"But you're—"

"I am only a queen on Asgard," Frigga replied. "You have done more than enough today."

Although she looked slightly uncomfortable with the idea, Vivian sat back down. "I'm sorry. It's just…strange," she said, watching Frigga reheat the water in the kettle. "I mean this with all the respect in the world, but you don't seem—I mean, I suppose I always had this idea of royalty—"

Frigga laughed. "Thor's partner said the same of me when we met. I would like to think it's possible to be both royal and ordinary."

That got Vivian's attention. "You're like Ruth."

"I'm sorry?"

Vivian smoothed her silver hair back behind her ears and, when Frigga set their cups down between them, took a deep breath. "There's a story in our faith—in Judaism, that is—that during a famine, a Jewish man named Elimelech took his two sons and wife to a city named Moab to find food. The Moabites worshipped idols and had their own beliefs. Unfortunately, Elimelech and his sons all died, leaving behind his wife, Naomi, and her daughters-in-law, one of whom was named Ruth. Naomi told them both to remarry and stay in Moab, while she returned to Israel. One of the girls did, but Ruth refused. What she told Naomi is one of the more famous quotes from our holy book." Vivian paused to take a deep breath, recalling the exact words from the Torah. "'Do not entreat me to leave you, to return from following you, for wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people and your God my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried.'"

"A beautiful story," Frigga said. "So, Ruth stayed with her mother-in-law, then?"

Vivian nodded and pushed the sleeves of her cardigan up a bit. "She stayed with Naomi, converted to the Jewish faith, and chose to live as an ordinary woman rather than the royal she was born." She caught Frigga's eyes. "That's why I thought of you. Someone who seems…both royal and ordinary, I suppose, but also exceptionally loyal and honest."

For a moment, Frigga looked like she might cry, as though it had been years since someone had said such kind things about her. "Vivian, I now know where Grace gets her kind heart," she said. But Vivian heard a distinct sadness in Frigga's voice, and, with the same kindness of which Frigga spoke, pretended not to notice.

* * *

"Majesties, thank you for coming."

Odin and Thor had just barely reached the observatory, and, unsurprisingly, Heimdall had acknowledged them before they got one foot in the doorway. "If you have sent for us, it is undoubtedly serious," Thor said.

Heimdall's amber eyes flickered against the light of the observatory. "Since the announcement of the impending birth of Prince Loki's child, as Your Majesty requested, I have been monitoring Jotunheim."

Not wasting time on formalities, Odin asked, "What have you seen?"

It was then that Heimdall turned toward them, and Thor could hear a whisper of fear and see the concern cutting lines in his friend's face. "I can neither see nor hear any activity whatsoever," Heimdall replied. "I sensed…"

Thor's heart thumped against his armor. He wasn't afraid so much as agitated. Before Odin could say anything, he asked, "You sensed what? An oncoming attack?"

Heimdall shook his head. "It is not an attack I sensed. It is a presence. Something not of Jotunheim. And yet I can neither see nor hear it. Everything," he finished, "has gone silent."

Thor's thoughts raced. Loki had destroyed half of Jotunheim, reducing it to little more than rubble. He had also killed their king. But as far Thor knew, they believed Loki dead. Why would Jotunheim suddenly attack Asgard after all this time, especially since they knew Odin had regained control of the throne? But then why could Heimdall not hear or see their realm? What were they hiding? And why were they hiding it?

Odin, on the other hand, had not taken his eyes off the great expanse of space in front of them, as if searching for something in the stars. His fingers tightened around Gungnir and he took a deep breath.

"Heimdall, I will need to know the moment there is a change in this situation. If you see or hear anything—anything at all—I will need to know immediately."

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

Odin turned to Thor. "Loki and his family require immediate protection. You will need to go to Midgard and seek it out."

"Why not simply bring them here?" Thor asked. "You wished for Grace to have the baby here."

Odin shook his head. "You misunderstand. Protection cannot be afforded here until we make adequate preparations. But they will require it immediately."

It took a moment, but Thor understood. "Yes. Yes, of course. I know what to do."

With a curt nod, he strode out of the observatory, headed for the one place he knew would be safe, hoping he could convince the people there to assist him.


End file.
